#central plains war | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerwrites06 · 6 months

Text

forest bride — myg

FOREST BRIDE | Min Yoongi | Oneshot | Requested by Anon

Original Request: hii i would like to request an arranged marriage au that turned out as a healthy relationship, unlike where oc came from y'know family full of mistreatment and favoritism. any member is fine! thank u! Plot: The business transaction of a marriage between two previous warring clans takes an unexpected turn. Pairing: Yoongi x OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Historical Inspired | Arranged Marriage Rating: 18+ Word Count: 8.9k Warnings: emotionally distanced family dynamics, emotional abuse and bullying from family members, minor character death (mentioned), angst, explicit sexual content (unprotected, gentle). Author's Note: This was soo much fun to do! I hope you like reading it as much as I loved writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this <3

Kiku was a quiet daughter amongst children of four in the Moon Clan. She was in the middle of the line of birth, often keeping to herself while her father doted on her brothers and her mother babied Hanaka, her sister. Kaito, the oldest son of their family, was the only person who ever paid attention Kiku.

He taught her how to play the Koto when they were younger. The soft plucking of strings were the only sounds she made in her household. Her mother, Keiko complimented the sound with the assumption that it was Hanaka. When Kaito explained that it was Kiku, their mother pointed the lack of precision at the ends of each verse.

Kiku felt safe and comforted under the wing of Kaito.

But fate had other plans.

Kaito grew sick after a hunting wound turned gangrenous and the winter only worsened his condition. When he passed, Kiku felt the searing and back-breaking weight of her family's scrutiny.

Suddenly she was no longer Kaito's companion. She was a mouth they didn't want to feed.

On the fresh cusp of spring, her parents unceremoniously announced her arrangement to marry the chief of the Onyx clan. Their rival.

"Kaito said they were dangerous," Kiku said as she knelt on the ground of their main living area. Her parents stared down at her while Hanaka and their younger brother Haruki sat on the cushioned mat.

"Kaito isn't here. Don't name him when we haven't finished mourning, stupid girl," Keiko spoke through gritted teeth.

"You will marry Chief Min Yoongi and give this family an important alliance," Daiki said with a finality to his tone.

The Onyx Clan was notorious for raiding other clans, enslaving their high-born families and treating any foreign spouses like dirt. Preventing them from causing any problems in the Moon Clan was to keep them at bay with something that they didn't think was a risk.

Keiko would never send Hanaka to a place like that. Perhaps Kiku was prepared specifically for this very alliance, forcing themselves not to love her so they could make a difficult decision. Perhaps that was just her own heart trying to find a glimpse of love in a place that had none for her since the beginning.

Kiku lowered her head in a solemn acceptance, her dress still black and her heart still raw from mourning the only family member who loved her. "I will do as you wish."

The wedding flourished during a misty, cold morning just at the skirts of dawn where purple kissed the edges of the mountains. Kiku wore a white dress of pretty silk, embroidered in both ivory and crimson thread as if the cloth bled. A white veil laid over her head giving the world around her more of a misty vision.

They held the wedding in the central border between the Moon and Onyx Clan. There was a gentle plain where it was decorated with flowers, divided with wood and a tea set prepared on a small wooden table. Her father walked her over to the table.

Kiku forced herself not to look at her groom just yet. Instead staring at the teapot in front of them, spouting a plume of steam with the faint hint of jasmine and honey in her nose. Tea ceremonies during weddings were a common tradition amongst both clans. Thankfully, it was a tea that Kiku enjoyed but the symbol of it dawned on her like a heavy weight on her back.

Sharing tea with a man outside her family was a sign that she was now connected to him. Bonded to him. A man that Kiku hadn't even looked at yet. So she gained some bravery within herself and stared up.

Min Yoongi wasn't a large man but he was taller than her. In this vulnerable state, he looked like a looming statue. It wasn't necessarily his stature but his presence that created weight. His black eyes pierced deeply into her as if peeling off layers of every protective sense she had of herself.

A deep scar ran down his eye, making it a little greyer than the left eye. His lips were pursed and a little pink while his pitch black hair was long to the nape. Short hair was often a sign of a deadly warrior. Someone who killed many without mercy and had little honour. At least that was what her parents told her.

The esteemed monk stepped to the front of the altar and began to recite ancient chants of a bonding ritual. Kiku tried to focus on the words but she couldn't stop keeping Yoongi's gaze. His eyes softened just then when she wasn't loosening her gaze either. As if he was waiting for her to look at him.

For a brief moment, Kiku noticed something gentle behind that demeanour. Or perhaps it was yet again her mind tricking her into feeling something positive when her world was turning upside down and she couldn't do anything about it. Yoongi glanced briefly over to the monk as they stepped to the table.

He waved his hands as he spoke his chants before gesturing to a young boy.

It was the father's duty to pour the tea. So Daiki poured it with a solemn face, almost bored. The waft of jasmine and honey coated her nose, giving her some comfort.

The groom shared his tea with the bride first. Yoongi's hands were veined heavily as if he were training in the dark hours of the morning before coming here. He reached out carefully, slow enough so Kiku didn't feel shocked. He pulled at the fabric and revealed her face, the cold morning breeze kissing her heated up skin.

Yoongi picked the tea cup, softly placing the brim of the cup to her lips.

Kiku kept her eyes on him right until she felt the warm honey touch of the tea on her tongue. She slowly pressed her lips together as he pulled the cup away. Just as Yoongi's cup clinked down, she picked up her own cup.

Yoongi lowered his head a little, making it easy to her to gently tip the cup. He took a sip, his throat bobbed up and down before she placed it back on the table.

The ceremony had been sealed. Even as Kiku foolishly tried to look back and say goodbye to her family, her mother was already fixing Hanaka's hair and her father continued speaking to Haruki. Niether of them gave any indication that they wished for a goodbye so Kiku turned back without a word.

Yoongi held her hand, just barely brushing at first to ensure Kiku would respond.

Kiku curled her fingers around his, allowing him to fully intertwine together before making way to the horses.

Yoongi clasped her waist, pushing her up to sit on the horse. Then he sat behind her, grabbing the reins as the scent of rain wafted in Kiku's nose.

The air turned wet to the touch and she noticed the darkened splotches on the tree bark of a soft drizzle slowly turning to gentle rain.

"Are you sure you don't want to speak to them?" Yoongi uttered his first question as her husband and Kiku wasn't sure how to respond or feel.

Kiku glanced briefly at her family, seeing Haruki rubbing his brow in boredom while her mother was still having a conversation with Hanaka, touching her chin. Still none of them tried to look her away. "It's alright."

Yoongi didn't order the horse to move for a few minutes before a small hum vibrated through his chest, tingling her back. "Very well," he said. He made a clicking noise and the horse began to gallop at a steady pace.

The forest that was considered Moon Clan's territory was an identical stream of teal leaved trees and small wildflowers, clustered amongst light brown mushrooms and wet lands. Kiku enjoyed walking through them purely because it was peace outside of her household.

However, Onyx Clan's territory harboured something so different that it almost felt magical. There were still those collections of teal leaved trees that wafted a sweet scent. Other than that, she saw patches of yellow and pink flowers, flat mushrooms that blushed at the edges and pretty deep green vines that wrapped around dark tree bark.

The sun began peeking a sharp light at the edge of the mountains, making the distant rivers look like melted gold.

The Onyx Clan itself was a beautiful village, with calmly sleeping cows and horses in their stables. Night food stalls open for business as families were out to eat chilli noodles and honeycomb candy. Moon Clan was so used to clean diets and fresh fish that the deep, spiced notes of the stalls overwhelmed Kiku, reminding her even more than she wasn't in her old household anymore.

People of the Onyx Clan gave way when they noticed Yoongi riding into the village. Their faces filled with smiles and excited whispers as they noticed her white dress. A little girl waved shyly at her.

Kiku hesitated but waved back with a faint smile.

As they arrived to the main cluster of houses for the high-born Min family, Kiku saw a group of people waiting for them.

Yoongi jumped off the house with a thud before gently holding onto Kiku again and helping her onto the ground as well. A small set of stairs led up to the cluster of houses.

When they reached, the older woman in centre gave a kind smile. By the way she was dressed in a beautiful silk kimono and the way Yoongi bowed low when seeing her, Kiku knew she was the matriarch of the family. Seeing so much kindness after her grief was something Kiku hadn't prepared herself to expect. So for a moment, she felt lost and unable to respond. She managed to give a wide enough smile.

"Bloody hell, Yoongi, you scared the shit out of her," a young woman from the side chuckled. Not in mockery but just jovial nature.

"Yun," the older woman reprimanded with a serious expression. "Manners." She turned back to Kiku with a smile. "Sorry, my dear, I understand you're in a new place. And our clans haven't had the best relationship but you are family now." She reached out and touched her hand.

Kiku could've been moved to tears at a warm mother's touch but she kept herself strong.

"My name is Hwayoung," she said. "These are my daughters Nari and Yun. I have a son named Yeong but he's away on a trip and will return tomorrow."

Kiku nodded. "It's lovely to meet you."

Hwayoung's flickered to Yoongi. "Let's have dinner and then you both can go rest."

After their dinner concluded and Kiku's belly was warm, they convened back to their bed chambers.

Kiku was given night dresses and also new clothes for the next few days. Especially since her family didn't give her any dress to take except for one.

For a while, the room was left empty with just Kiku watching the fire flicker before skimming through the books laid upon the mantle. It was mostly war and history stories along with some manuals on mastering the sword. Kiku wished she had some books on the Koto to play and fill her days that didn't have to do with having Yoongi's children. But she wasn't sure.

Hwayoung and Yoongi's sisters seemed nice enough but there was no way of telling whether it was a momentary ruse. After all, they couldn't be rude to her in front of everyone. Although a part of Kiku wanted to believe that their kind faces were genuine.

The door then clicked open. Yoongi walked through, wearing a relaxed black silk shirt and his hair tousled as if he had just taken a bath. He closed the door behind him, expression taken aback for a moment as if he hadn't expected someone in his bed chambers before softening.

"Do you have everything you need?" Yoongi asked.

"Yes, thank you." Kiku walked forward to him as he sat at the edge of the bed. She didn't say anything yet but Yoongi's throat bobbed up and down.

Stammering, he said. "We can just sleep."

Kiku blinked curiously. Of all the things she expected, this wasn't one of them. It was relieving that he was kind but to completely let her adjust to the new place was not on the list of expectation. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Yoongi said, keeping his eyes on her. "It's been a long day. We should both rest."

Kiku intertwined her fingers together and nodded, feeling a strange warmth in her chest. "Alright. Good night."

In the morning, Kiku awoke to an empty space in her bed. When one of the maidservants entered to serve her, she explained that Yoongi went out to train early in the morning just before breakfast to keep him awake.

Kiku hoped she didn't look scared to deter him into performing any marital duties. Perhaps throughout the day, she could try to comfort him. She knew what she was getting into.

After taking a warm bath with the maidservant being surprisingly gentle and kind, Kiku was called into breakfast by Hwayoung.

The Min family gathered under a gazebo structure made from black wood. It was round and the food laid out smelled like home in a place that hadn't been her home for a full day yet. Baked fish, soups, rice, fruits for sweetness. It was a spread for something that usually rushed in her family. Or at least Kiku would have to eat quickly.

Kiku sat down next to Yoongi while Yun and Nari continued on their conversation. Yoongi's brother, Yeong came in from his trip and he looked a softer compared to his older brother and smiled often. Usually making jokes with his mother.

Yoongi ate fish and seemed to prefer the soups over rice.

While the others were deep in their conversation, Kiku leaned in slightly. "How was training?" she asked.

Yoongi looked up, again a little shocked but quickly softened. "It was good."

"Yoongi gets quite sore after his training, Kiku," Yun said with a small smirk. "Maybe later in the afternoon, you should give him a massage. Lord knows he needs a good one."

Yoongi glared for a moment but Kiku found it endearing.

"Yun," Hwayoung reprimanded but with a playful air this time rather than the disciplinary one of last night. "Kiku should not be forced to do anything she doesn't want to."

Kiku stammered. "I'm alright with it. I used to give shoulder massages to my brother all the time."

Yoongi cleared his throat. "It's really alright." He nodded.

Kiku smiled politely, lowering her head.

"Perhaps Kiku should come spend the day with us since brother insists on being boring," Yun said.

"I am new here," Kiku said.

"A tour then," Nari said.

Hwayoung perked up. "You can take her down to the markets and get some silks or jewellery. There's lots of music playing there too."

Kiku blinked curiously. "Would there be any Koto players?"

"You like the Koto?" Hwayoung asked.

"My brother taught me how to play." Kiku's heart clenched at the mention of him again. It had been so lovely to be in a place like this. How nice would it have been if their family all spoke so easily to one another.

"That's sweet. How is your brother now?"

"He's passed away," Kiku said.

"I'm sorry, my dear." Hwayoung's eyes turned sad. Both of empathy for her but something else. "I lost my husband a while ago as well. I understand it can feel empty." The table turned quiet for a few moments to remember their father

"Thank you." Kiku's words were simple but Hwayoung didn't fully realise just how much comforting words directed at her. Like a warm, tight hug that she could cry into.

Kiku spent her time walking around with Yun and Nari as they explained all the ins and outs of the clan's main village. They had three smaller towns that used the same supplies and answered to Yoongi as Chief but this was the clan that Yoongi's ancestors had built and it was beautiful.

Nari took her to the bookshop and silk store. Kiku bought herself a pretty purple silk dress while also getting books on poetry that she used to enjoy listening to. A poetess would visit their clan when they were younger and Kaito would work in the shadow puppet shows to re-enact them.

It was one of the few things Kiku was allowed to watch with the family while helping Kaito work with the puppets.

Then they went to the food stalls. Kiku ate spicy dumpling noodles with mushrooms foraged from the forest. Apparently they helped with childbearing as the old woman stated, clearly knowing that it was going to be her who bears the next Chief. Kiku hadn't quite let that sink in but even when she did think about it, it wasn't a horrible thought.

Kiku, Yun and Nari then made their way to the training grounds once their bellies were full and their cheeks hurt from laughing. Kiku hadn't laughed or smiled like this since Kaito made jokes to cheer her up. While they did bicker, Yun and Nari seemed like they were close and loving to one another.

Kiku wondered if Hanaka and her would have ever been like that if their mother didn't get involved so much.

At the centre of the training grounds, Kiku saw Yoongi training with his younger brother Yeong. He spoke instructions for Yeong to follow, keeping one hand behind his back as if to hinder himself from making any strong moves. Yeong kept his hands tight on the hilt of the sword, swinging right against Yoongi's parries as the clang of steel whistled in the air.

Kiku found herself seeing the concentrated scrunch of his dark brows, sharp jawline a little clenched as he parried another attack. His black hair was tied back with chunks of it falling over the frame of his face. "He does this every morning."

Yun hummed. "You like what you see?"

Kiku cleared her throat. "It's nice he's teaching his brother."

"Yeong should focus on his studies too but he keeps running to brother for more training," Nari said. "Yoongi never refuses. He likes training for no reason."

"Ever since father died, brother trains constantly. There's no war but he always says there might be danger," Yun said. "Even with your alliance, he's still weary." Nari quickly nudged her arm and for the first time, Yun felt a little uncomfortable.

Kiku pursed her lips together. She wondered if Yoongi was suspicious that her father would run an attack on them regardless of their alliance. While Kiku was a small risk to lose in the family, her father still may break the deal. She had little trust in her father and wouldn't be surprised if he wishes to prove some kind of point.

As she shifted in and out of her thoughts, Kiku saw Yoongi turn to notice them watching. Notice her watching. Kiku tried to look down at the wrapped silk dress in her arms, hoping it wouldn't look too suspicious. Yoongi turned to tell Yeong to take a break before making his way over to Kiku.

"Looks like your husband wishes to speak to you." Yun smirked, returning to her demeanour as if nothing happened. She pushed Nari towards Yeong to speak to him instead.

Yoongi raised his brow as his sisters rushed away. Beads of sweat had formed on his hairline as he met Kiku's gaze. "They didn't bother you too much?"

Kiku was shocked by what sounded like a genuine question. "No. They were lovely. They showed me around the main town."

"I can see that," Yoongi said before giving his sword away to a servant. "Come with me."

Kiku nodded and followed him out of the training grounds.

They moved from the training grounds back into the cluster of houses where the Min family resided. Yoongi escorted her to their personal house and Kiku wondered whether Yoongi wanted to pursue their marital duties now that he was given time.

It was strange but Kiku's heart pounded not quite out of fear or worry. It was simply curiosity and perhaps even a little excitement. Everything Yoongi had done so far was give her comfort.

As they entered the main house, a beautiful polished Koto stood in the living area.

Kiku's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the Koto which had beautiful ivory finishes and a soft chair to sit on while playing. "Is this for me?" she asked in a low tone.

"You said you used to play Koto. I figured you'd like to play in your free time," Yoongi said. "Your parents didn't pack much for your trip." He shrugged.

Kiku's lips parted as she reached out and touched the Koto. Memories of playing with her brother and learning every note with him burst in her like sweetness. Tears formed a thin gloss on her eyes, as she took a deep breath.

"Is it alright?" Yoongi asked.

"It's perfect," Kiku said. She turned and smiled. "Thank you. You didn't need to do that."

"It was nothing," Yoongi said. "It's your home now too."

Kiku nodded as her heart swelled.

"Also if my mother starts giving you too many lessons, I can get you a secret room."

Kiku let out a small chuckle. "It's okay. I'd like a lesson."

Yoongi pressed his lips together, a hint of a soft smile forming on his features which only made Kiku's heart warm.

Kiku's time in the Onyx Clan was far more pleasant and loving than she ever expected. Before she even realised, four months had passed. Kiku spent days with Yun and Nari, had meals with Hwayoung and then spent a quiet night with Yoongi. It was still innocent between the two of them but she enjoyed those quiet moments sharing things about their day. Yoongi still didn't speak on any personal things and Kiku didn't want to pry on how he got the scar on his eye or about his father's death. But it was still nice.

Kiku nearly forgot that she had another life prior to these few months. It was only when her younger brother, Haruki came to visit the clan. Discomfort returned to her chest, aching and making her twitch. She barely spoke to Haruki and every time they had a conversation, it was malicious. Haruki found joy in insulting her and demanding her to do things as a way to mimic their father.

Kiku reminded herself that she wasn't in that place anymore. This was her home too. She wore her new purple silk dress and pinned her hair up while the servants prepared a tea set on the floor table.

Haruki entered the private house as escorted by the servants. A childish grimace on his face as always but his chest puffed to look like father.

Kiku kept sited at the table.

Haruki stood over her for a few moments as if waiting for her to stand. "You wouldn't bother to see your brother at the border."

"You've come at a busy hour," Kiku said. Truthfully, she wanted to be in the warm comfort of her home to breathe easy and hide her shaking fingers. "What did you need?"

Haruki scoffed and sat down, tapping the side of the teacup. "Father's dead."

Kiku had little love for her father but she still sit in a moment of silence, unable to know what do with the news. "What happened?"

"We need more supplies," Haruki said, ignoring her question.

It was courtesy anyway so she didn't ask again. "The Moon clan has spare granaries for those occasions."

"We have an alliance." Haruki eyed her up and down. "I'd expect you to tend to it since you're clearly not tending to any children."

"What happened to the granaries, Haruki?" Kiku asked, emphasising his name.

Haruki pursed her lips, keeping his eyes on her gaze and waiting for her to look down. When she didn't, Haruki's face twitched. "We'd been using it."

"For what?"

"That's none of your concern," Haruki said.

"So not emergencies then," Kiku said.

"You can't speak to me that way." Haruki chuckled bitterly.

"I'm the Lady of this territory and your older sister, I can speak to you in whatever tone is necessary." Kiku narrowed her gaze. "What happened?"

Haruki tightened his jaw like a stubborn child. "We'd been taking from it for the banquets. Father and mother celebrated a lot because you were gone."

"And after brother's death," Kiku said.

"Don't talk about brother."

"He was my brother too. More a brother than you ever were."

Poison laced in his voice. "Kaito spent time with you because he felt bad for you. You were this pathetic thing crouching around everywhere. The only time people said anything nice about you was in order to fuck you. Don't pretend you were someone special to him or Yoongi." Haruki gestured to the door. "He's not even willing to put a baby in you." He chuckled.

"I don't appreciate being spoken for, Chief Min," Yoongi's deep voice shook through the room.

Haruki turned his head, expression turning sour.

Yoongi walked into the house, shadows forming harsh lines on his face as something dark flashes across his expression. For a moment, he looked like the exact nightmarish image of what the Moon clan thought of the Min family. Even barefooted steps added a heavy echo in the air that it sent chills down her own spine despite the fact she knew this demeanour wasn't for her intimidation. "You can have your supplies at the border."

Haruki deflated as if letting out a sigh of relief. "I should've gone to you first then, Chief. It seems I expected too much of my silly sister." He gave a triumphant smile to her.

"Of course, she made the mistake of thinking you were far too competent." Yoongi intertwined his fingers together, veined and hardened from training.

Haruki's expression turned again, cheeks reddening. "Excuse me?"

"Don't worry, I won't make that mistake." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Perhaps we'll have a charity basket at the border."

Haruki stood to his feet quickly, shaking and trembling like a little boy. "You go too far."

"Do I? Because it seems as if you've come here asking for more than the agreed alliance and proceeding to disrespect my wife," Yoongi said. "The way I see it, giving you a charity basket is more mercy than you deserve currently. I suggest you take it quietly."

Haruki had all the inflated confidence their parents bloated into him from childhood. If he was even the slightest bit stupider, he would speak and in a brief second of that stupidity, he almost did. But then he glared at Kiku. "You'd let him talk to your family like that?"

Anger spread through her chest. Now he wanted to be family, when it benefited him. "If only you were true family then perhaps not."

Haruki grimaced, giving a softer glare to Yoongi before turning on his heel and stomping out of the house.

Kiku let out a deep, shaky breath as her spine began to ache from the tension. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her calm again, taking the scent of wood and warmth in her comfortable home. She heard Yoongi moving until she heard his hum right at her ear.

"Quite the unpleasant family you have," Yoongi mused.

Kiku couldn't help but let out a small, saddened chuckle. "Kaito was the only good one."

Yoongi turned and sat down next to her, shoulders pressed.

The heaviness gave Kiku a wave of comfort like the way his breath hit the back of his neck when they slept.

"If he comes again, I'll ask the guards to delegate him to me or my mother," Yoongi said. "There's no need for you to speak to them if you don't want to."

"You won't be burdened by them?" Kiku asked, turning her head and finding his face incredibly close.

"No one should speak like that to you especially not in our own house." Yoongi waved his hand.

Kiku smiled as her heart burst into little butterflies, creating a lump in her throat. She leaned in and pressed a small kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi turned his head just as Kiku was pulling away, their noses brushed against each other. Dark eyes pierced into her, keeping her still in her position even though her body ached for how close they were. Yoongi kissed her lips, shyly at first to help her adjust to the action.

The tantalizing warmth that passed through Kiku pushed her to lean into the kiss, cupping his cheek. Yoongi's hands held onto her lower back pulling her close until she was pressed flush against his chest.

His lips were hot against hers, keeping his grip on her firm but so soft and gentle. Yoongi only broke the kiss for a moment as Kiku caught a deep breath before pressing her lips again. She gripped onto the fabric of his shirt until Yoongi pulled her enough for her to straddle him completely.

Yoongi held her face in his hand, pausing their kiss again to move his lips down to her neck and jawline. Every ache that she felt from her encounter with Haruki melted away at his touch. He pulled at the pins of her hair, letting it fall down the trail of her back. His fingers traced the length of her spine, making her shiver. Tongue grazed over the soft spot on her neck as her hips began to sway against his own.

Yoongi let out a small groan, lifting his head up. His chest heaved in desperation, gripping onto her hair and keeping their foreheads pressed together.

Kiku reached in again but Yoongi kept her in place.

"Are you sure?" Yoongi asked in a rasped voice that made her tremble.

Kiku nodded. "I'm sure." She reached in and kissed him again, deeper and pleading to ensure he knew this was what she wanted.

But a knock on the door startled them.

Yoongi let out a small, frustrated sigh. "What is it?" he asked.

Kiku got off his lap slowly with a clear of her throat, trying to fix her hair as the door opened to a servant.

"Sorry, sire. Your mother needs your audience for something." The servant kept their head bowed as if already knowing the position he could've caught them in.

Yoongi turned and gave Kiku a soft look.

Kiku gave a reassuring smile, patting his arm before he got to his feet and walked away. Leaving her heart pounding manically.

Another week passed since their kiss. Yoongi wasn't distant necessarily but it did feel like nothing changed. Kiku wondered perhaps he didn't enjoy it. He was the Chief and had many choices of his own. Kiku was an alliance marriage. Any affection that they developed may have just been a spur of the moment as they lived under the same roof. Despite all the explanations she's made in her head, it still twinged something in Kiku. With the kindness received from Yoongis family, she imagined that something would be wrong. She traded a kinder family for a husband that didn't quite enjoy her affection. She'd take it though.

This morning, the family sat around the table for breakfast. Yoongi gave her a glance here and there but it was still distant. Kiku tried to smile back but he immediately looked away.

"So Kiku has been immensely calm these past few days," Yun said, a smirk playing on her lips. "Ma says it's often a sign of...something on the way." Her eyes flickered down to gesture to her stomach.

Kiku's cheeks burned, stammering. "No, it's not that." She shook her head. "I had my bleeding." She couldn't quite hide the slight disappointment in her tone. Kiku never thought about children especially with the experiences she had with her own family. But something about the silence from Yoongi made grasp at unnecessary desires of children or anything to melt off the ice between them.

Yun hummed, pouting. "That's a shame, I wanted nieces and nephews." She poked at her food, the light breeze making strands of her dark hair dance.

"Don't pressure them," Nari said, her tone serious. "They need to be relaxed when they do it."

"Girls, quiet." Hwayoung narrowed her gaze, letting out a defeated sigh. "Don't listen to them." She smiled. "These things take time."

Yoongi stayed silent and Kiku herself couldn't find anything to say but give a reassuring smile. Even though she worried Yoongi won't come near her a second time.

Kiku played her Koto in the afternoon while Yoongi was out supervising the patrol. Usually it would take him till evening to come back. But today he came in early, stomping and breathing out with frustration. A strange sight from someone who was so calm. Raven black hair glistened from sweat, patches of dust latched onto his skin and his jaw terribly tightened as if it might make break his teeth.

Strangely enough, it was relieving to see some emotion in Yoongi after all the distance. Kiku stood from the Koto. "What's wrong?" She asked gently.

"Your damn brother," he seethed. "His men attacked one of my scouts." Yoongi poured water into a goblet and chugged it.

Kiku's heart dropped. "What?"

"Apparently they'd been disturbing the peace. But they didn't plan for me to come." His scar looked deeper and darker when he was angry. "Mother was weary about them for a while but I didn't think they'd stoop to petty little violence."

Kiku lowered her head, almost in shame. Even though she felt more connected to Yoongi's family, her name and identity was still attached to the people she grew up with. It was embarrassing seeing others witness the pettiness that she endured her whole life. The same pettiness that Kaito hated. "I'm sorry," she said.

Yoongi stilled for a moment, dark brows furrowed as he turned to Kiku. "Why're you apologizing?"

Kiku stammered. "It's my family. They're like this, our parents made you all seem like monsters and Haruki would do anything to make himself feel like father would be proud." She shook her head.

"Well, that's their mistake, not yours." Yoongi spoke under her breath but Kiku clung to every word and kept it close to her chest.

She reached out and touched his arm. "Is there anything I can do?"

Yoongi stared at her deeply and so long that Kiku felt like layers of her soul were being peeled. Then he broke the gaze and tried to walk back to their bedroom. "No, it's okay."

Kiku's stomach clenched as once again, the ice began to form. But this time she wasn't going relent quietly. "Yoongi, you don't have to protect my feelings. If this is too much of a burden to you then I can leave."

Yoongi stopped, looking over his shoulder to her. The expression on his face, harsh. "What?"

Kiku dug her nails into her palms to give herself some form of strength. "I can handle my family, I've lived with them my whole life. But...I don't want you to be married to someone you don't truly want."

Yoongi's throat bobbed up and down. "Is that what you think?"

"I don't know," she spoke honestly. "I just know that you became distant after what happened and I—I'm unsure."

Yoongi fully turned his body around, stepping closer. "If you're unsure, then you talk to me."

"I can't speak my wishes so easily." Kiku's voice lowered as he moved closer until she could catch wafts of the forest from him. "It's not something I'm used to."

Yoongi's expression softened. He rubbed in between his brows. "I'm a little too used to my family just saying what they think." He looked up to her. "I'm sorry. I should've checked on you."

Kiki's stomach felt warm. staying silent for a moment just to ensure what she heard was right. Then she spoke in a small voice. "It's okay."

Yoongi took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers together turning her world into a burst of stars. "I will not make you go back to that place again." He muttered. "I want you here."

"You want me here?" She asked again, just to hear him say it so it could echo inside her whenever darker voices grew too loud.

"Right here. With me." Yoongi tightened his hold. "Will you do that?"

Kiku nodded, a burning behind her eyes. "I will, I promise." She smiled, touching his chest to make herself feel grounded again.

"We still need to deal with your stupid brother," Yoongi said. "He's quickly turning into a pest than an ally."

Kiku could spend years imagining Haruki as this invincible monster, similar to when they were children. But this was real now. Haruki wasn't Kaito. He was stupid and petty even when he tried to hurt her. There were a million ways to get rid of people like that. "I might have an idea."

As Kiku requested, Yoongi organized a meeting at the border between Onyx and Moon territory. A canopy was erected with a floor table where they all sat together. The edge of dawn painted the mountains and tree in a burnished gold and the scent of morning dew was the only comfort in Kiku's pool of anxiety.

She was prepared for this meeting and the decisions entailed but rarely had she spoken up to Haruki before. When Kiku tried, her mother or father would reprimand and punish her.

Even as Haruki walked to the canopy, she felt a prickle of being scolded in a few minutes. But she had push it down. She wasn't Haruki's sister here, she was a Lady of the Onyx Clan. The Chief's wife.

"This pompous meeting surely isn't about the little scuffle between scouts," Haruki said. "It's a bit of harmless fun."

Yoongi stayed silent.

"You brought your wife here too," Haruki looked Kiku up and down, making sure that he used a moniker disconnected to him.

"In regards to your previous demands, we're suggesting some changes in the alliance." Yoongi kept a calm tone even though Kiku saw the tightened grip of his hands.

Haruki chuckled. "If you don't want her anymore, just kick her out." He waved his hand. "One of your servants can have her."

Yoongi narrowed his gaze but kept his neutral expression. "As you commented on our child before, we had an idea on how to strength the bond between clans."

"And how is that?" he asked.

"Since you require our food supplies which we give to you out of kindness, we have a compromise," Yoongi said. "In exchange for our food, any child born from my wife will take the Chiefs title of the Moon clan."

Haruki's brows furrowed as his chest heaved. His glare turned to Kiku. "You put him up to this, didn't you, you bitch?"

"It was a joint decision," Kiku said, maintaining her calm demeanour. She was used to his insults. She wouldn't let it hurt her again.

"I won't agree to this, it's stupid." Haruki winced.

"Very well," Yoongi said. "Then I suggest you get your defences ready."

"What?"

"Your father must've told you how the Onyx Clan works." Yoongi began to muse and there was something... oddly satisfying about the tone. "My wolves haven't been out for a feed in a while."

"You'd attack your ally?" Haruki asked.

"Attacking my scout and disrespecting the Chiefs wife constitutes that you are breaking every rule in the alliance," Yoongi said and Haruki stayed quiet. "Giving you an alternate compromise is a mercy. I suggest you consider it. My soldiers won't care if you're a spoiled Chief who can't carry a sword properly."

Haruki grimaced, chin quivering in frustration. He looked over at Kiku, as if trying to get ready for another insult but he knew it was too late. Kiku was no longer the target to point insults at. One wrong move and Haruki loses his head along with the Moon Clan. This way they can keep their lives. Haruki was stupid but he was still too scared to die. "Fine. I accept your terms."

Yoongi hummed. "Thank you." He stood up and held onto Kiku's hand, helping her to her feet.

"What would've Kaito said about you turning your back on family?" Haruki asked, cutting into her in a place that ached like a thousand knives.

Kiku paused in place, gripping onto Yoongi's hand like her life depended on it as her heart panged in pain. Haruki knew nothing about what Kaito was like. It took her every strength and hope in her body not to throw scalding tea in his face for even insinuating that Kiku would do something to disappoint Kaito. Because Kaito wasn't like that. Kaito understood and listened. Haruki was a fool. Kiku straightened her posture, turned and looked Haruki straight in the eye. "Kaito wouldn't have caused a food shortage in the clan."

Haruki scoffed, pursing his lips together.

"Kaito did his duty, as I am. From where I'm looking, I'm not the one who made father die from disappointment." Kiku felt like a dam burst inside her as she let the words flow but seeing the Haruki's sour and pouty expression made it all worth it.

Kiku was able to breathe easy when they returned to their tent for the night. She walked over to her vanity and her maid immediately began taking pins out of her hair. She watched from the mirror as Yoongi unlatched his sword sheathe of his waist and began to pour himself a drink. The dark furrow of his brows prominent. Kiku raised a hand and smiled at the maid. "A moment, please."

The maid bowed and did as she asked, stepping out of the tent to give them privacy. Kiku took out the rest of the pins so her hair was fully open and relaxed. A dull throb formed on her scalp. She stood and made her way to Yoongi as he leaned forward on the table.

"He can be a lot to tolerate," Kiku said.

Yoongi took in a deep breath to calm himself down. "The way he talks to you, it's like you're complete strangers. Enemies, even."

Kiku swallowed the small lump in her throat. It was always normal to her, seeing the way family treated the one they didn't want with the exception of Kaito. But Yoongi valued family with his life. She could only imagine the kind of shock thrumming through him. "You have a good family. Some don't." She touched his arm. "But sometimes you find a better one."

Yoongi turned his head, his once sharp eyes now softened and sad. "If I've ever made you feel—"

"Not once." Kiku knew it like the breath she took. Yoongi and his family had been nothing but comforting and kind. She reached and pressed her forehead against his. It was almost involuntary but feeling him lean into it was the only answer she needed to keep still.

Yoongi turned his body slowly, letting their chest flush against one another before he leaned and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. His warm hand cupped her cheek softly like she was precious. He pulled away only to press kisses on her cheek and jawline, taking her into an embrace. He buried his face into the crook of her neck where the scent of jasmines wafted in his nose.

Kiku could fall asleep in this embrace. Her body and mind and every bruise in her heart soothed from the loving touch. She traced her fingers across the strands of his hair as if lulling the both of them to dreams. It was difficult to admit it in the past few months with the new changes and confusion. But today for the first time, she could surely say it.

Kiku felt loved.

The meeting had left Kiku and Yoongi tired for the evening. They rested their heads, nestled close as they tried to sleep. Tried was an effort Kiku persisted on as the hours went by. It wasn't quite a terrible night of troubling thoughts but an eagerness. She opened her eyes to see Yoongi with his eyes calmly closed, his lips a little puckered.

Kiku took a moment to watch him, reaching out a little to touch his cheek. He stirred slightly at her touch, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing steady and rhythmic. She pulled away with a defeated sigh, not wanting to wake him up. So she turned around and tried to drift off to sleep again.

It was only a few minutes later then she felt Yoongi shift, moving closer until his chest was pressed right against her back. His arm laid over her body, embracing her from behind. Kiku felt a wave of warmth and comfort wash over her as Yoongi tightened his hold.

"Can't sleep?" Yoongi asked.

Kiku hummed. "A little. It's okay, go back to sleep."

"I can be awake," Yoongis voice rasped as his face buried into the crook of her neck again. He began pressing kissing down the length of her shoulder. "Do you want me to be awake?"

Kiku smiled to herself, swaying her hips against him. "A little."

Yoongi chuckled lightly, the vibrations made her quiver in delight. He made Kiku lay on her back, climbing on top of her and sneaking between her legs. "Are you sure?" He whispered.

Kiku nodded. "I'm sure." She smiled against his lips before pressing a kiss on his bottom lip.

Yoongi kissed down the length of her neck, unravelling his night clothes and pushing up Kikus soft dress. He entered her gently, her snug walls hugging his tip before he kept pushing.

Kiku gripped onto his clothing as the sensation made her tremble under him. She swayed her hips with his movements, encouraging him to move faster. The ache was slight but the tingle of pleasure sent her into a slight dizziness. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

Yoongi brushed his fingers across her hairline, full of affection as he moved deeper inside her. He pressed sweet kisses at the corner of her lips.

Kiku smiled feverishly as the pleasure sent heat through her body, radiating like steam and intoxication.

Yoongi made sure he was slow, not just to be careful but to draw out this intimacy for as long as he could. The feeling of embrace brought back every slight desire he had in the past few months to hold or touch her. "Feel good?"

Kiku nodded, letting out a slight whimper as he continued to move at that tantalizing pace. "Good." She traced her thumb across his cheek. Strands of his hair falling over his face, curtaining over hers. Her core became slick with arousal, creating light squelch sounds as he thrusted into her with a new desperation.

His release clouded him, flooding him with an unbearable warmth until he grind himself into her. He muffled his moan against her neck.

Kiku felt his lower belly press on her sensitive spot, making her clench around him, pushing him further into his climax.

Yoongi lifted himself up, foreheads layered with sweat as they pressed against each other.

Kiku took his lips into a kiss, surging him to thrust into a steady pattern that made her lose breath. She gripped onto the side of his neck as moans broke through any form of whisper.

Yoongi quickened his pace following the pattern of her moans and the rolling of his own release. Then the sweet burst into a ricochet of pleasure and heat.

Kiku smiled, breathless as she relished in the warmth filling her. As Yoongi kept moving, he snuck his head in between her legs, targeting her sensitive spot and pushing her to the edge. Kiku's brows furrowed, aching to reach her own climax as she was full of him. Her breathing turned to quickened whimpers as she squirmed under his touch. Her back arched, head thrown back giving Yoongi the chance to kiss her neck and jawline.

Her climax bloomed, the heat of it shaking her limbs and forcing her legs to shut around him. Yoongi kissed her forehead, still rubbing on that spot until she twitched against it.

Kiku whimpered, pushing his hand away. A small laugh left his lips fuelling her with more delight. It was the most wonderful feeling she had to be embraced like this so warmly and the bliss of pleasure melting her body until she was meshed with the bed itself.

"You feel sleepier now?" Yoongi watched her with his own half-lidded, blissed eyes.

Kiku smiled as her breathing turned slow and calm. "Mhm." She traced her fingers down his cheek. "I think I've officially become your wife."

"Oh?" Yoongi's brow raised. "You weren't before?"

Kiku chuckled, slapping his chest playfully. "I mean we don't have anything to hide anymore."

Yoongi caged her in with his arms, making her feel safe and secure. "No, we don't."

Kiku blinked slowly, her finger moved gently to his scar. "Like this?"

Yoongi's expression softened into a mix of ruminating vulnerability and an old sadness that had been repeatedly reminisced. He lay down next to her, shoulders pressed flush. "My father and I go on small trips every now and then. He used to do it with every child, just to. . .talk, connect with nature and spend time." He waved his hand. "It was strange for Chiefs to do it but he said it was because he never got to speak to his own father. So, he wanted to make sure we weren't. . .without one." He let out a long breath.

"He sounds like a good father," Kiku said.

"He was." Yoongi's dark eyes melted and glossed from emotion. "One day though, bandits were prowling in the place my father and I camped. They attacked us. I got this from one of the bandits." He pointed to the scar. "Before my father told me to run while he fended them off. I called my mother and some guards to help but we were too late."

Kiku shifted and rubbed his chest. "Is that why you train so much?"

Yoongi nodded. "I want to make sure Yeong and the girls know how to defend themselves or others should the need arise." He took a deep breath, playing with Kiku's hair. "But I had a good family. We took care of each other, just like we'll take care of you."

Kiku smiled, resting her chin on his chest. "I'll take care of you all too. I still owe you a massage."

"You gave me a pretty good one a minute ago." Yoongi smirked.

Kiku chuckled. "A proper massage."

Kiku and Yoongi returned to the main houses early in the morning as the soft gold of dawn painted the forest. Hwayoung had lunch prepared with the rest of the family to welcome them home. Fresh steamed fish with tofu, rice porridge and some fresh fruits newly picked from the farms. Kiku ate happily, her appetite had grown in the months she was with this family but it made her all the more energetic and vibrant along with her excitement from the past night's events.

Something the family noticed more than Kiku realised.

Yun, in particular, stared the two of them a little too closely with a smirk. "So how was the trip, brother?" She asked in a sing-song voice.

Yoongi's eyes flickered up as he paused mid-bite. "As most political talks go with a spoiled brat of a Chief. He gave into the deal quickly," he spoke in a slightly formal tone.

Kiku quietly sipped on the last drops of her tea before he gently poured her another cup. She gave him a shy smile.

"I haven't heard much about the prospects of the Chiefs of the Moon clan but the younger son is usually unprepared," Hwayoung said thankfully to distract from what Yun actually wanted to ask.

Yeong stammered just as he took a bite of his food, looking at Hwayoung with a pout. "What'd I do?"

Hwayoung raised her hand. "I mean, generally. Not you."

Yoongi let out a small chuckle under his breath. "She means you."

Yeong sighed, pointing at him with his chopsticks. "I've beaten you in sword training before, I'll do it again."

"Did you do anything else in the trip?" Yun asked, with a wide grin, leaning forward in excitement. "You were both alone for the night. And Kiku's been. . .glowing."

Kiku's cheeks burned, clearing her throat. "I—I don't—"

"You need to stop obsessing over your brother's marriage, sweetheart, it's getting strange." Hwayoung patted the back of Yun's hand.

"It's only because you don't let me get married." Yun leaned back on her chair, folding her arms over her chest.

"Mother's protecting the men of the clan," Nari said, raising a brow.

Yun slapped Nari's arm as Yeong snorted.

"See how they bully me?" Yun asked Kiku.

Kiku chuckled, biting down her bottom lip and glancing at Yoongi. Often when she had terrible encounters with Haruki, she would get scolded by her family and live with the suffocating feeling of frustration in her chest.

Today was the first time, Kiku could cling to the happy moments and forget about Haruki or any of this harsh words. Her family threw her to the Onyx clan like a bait at the end of a fishing line but in their hatred for her, Kiku found love for her own.

masterlist

#yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagines #yoongi fanfiction #bts arranged marriage au #bts x oc #yoongi x oc

499 notes · View notes

cryptotheism · 7 months

Note

PLEASE I KNOW YOU DON'T LIKE DISCLOSING WORLDBUILDING BUT I BEG YOU TELL ME ABOUT THE BURNING HORDE I *NEEEEED* TO KNOW ABOUT THE AMBER SKIES STEPPE HORDE

They're explored in the novel! Kali is a war-driver!

They're a nomadic people who control the central plains of Septentrias. Their entire civilization is mechanized, existing on the backs of automotive technology.

There are small communities that do not move, generally focused around the cultivation of food and biofuels, but most of these communities would collapse if they were not regularly visited by the massive trade caravans that migrate the steppes.

Ethnically, they are Baquari, a vegetarian semi-bovine strain.

Baquari children are usually fitted with rig sockets very early in life, and grow up learning to fix, repair, and maintain automotive technology. They generally do not learn to read. Their civilization is entirely oral, and has developed a complex sign language for communicating between moving vehicles. Because of this, their understanding of mechanical engineering borders on the pre-linguistic, and is often considered supernatural by other cultures. To outside observers, it can often appear like they can literally speak to machines.

Culturally, they're the great bridge connecting Septentrias. If you have something you need shipped from New Babel to to the Teykile, it goes through the Burning Horde. Their centrality to life in Septentrias is so great, that their sign language --hordesign-- is the lingua Franca for the entire continent.

They make a dish kinda like saag paneer out of curried mosses and cyber-cow cheese. Whenever the trade caravan shows up on your city it's an EVENT. Most strains can eat vegetables so half the people show up just for the food.

#amber skies

315 notes · View notes

ohnoitstbskyen · 1 year

Text

On God of War and "canon" in Norse mythology

Playing God of War: Ragnarök and reading writing about it reminds me of something a lot of people have trouble internalizing about Norse myth, which is is that

The vast, overwhelming majority of Norse mythology is lost and

There is no "canon" in Norse mythology

The concept of "canon" in religion is, at least in the west, very much a Christian thing (yes, it's also a feature of other religions). The idea that there is an authorized, central, divinely ordained, "official" central set of facts which are true, and everything else is fanfiction at best or heresy at worst.

And this is something we've taken with us into our general media criticism, hundreds of thousands of words exchanged between people debating which parts of Star Wars or the MCU are canon, or endlessly cycling through interpretations of what parts of Tolkien's mythos apply to each part of the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit. I've participated in those discussions, and they can be a lot of fun, but it's worth remembering that this is only one of multiple ways to approach writing and narrative.

Norse mythology has no canon. There is no set of texts that have been declared by any central authority to be "the truth" of the Allfather, or the most correct depiction of Thor. Even in its own time, before its suppression by Christianity, Viking-age sailors, farmers and warriors would not have understood their religious practise as bounded by a finite and defined set of stories. It was an oral tradition, transmitted by telling and re-telling.

Your skjald knows some stories of the gods, maybe the guy the next town over knows some different ones, and maybe you go on a trading journey with a guy from Norway who knows completely different stories and you take those home with you where they become a part of the local rotation.

The primary sources for most Norse mythology (and certainly for God of War: Ragnarök) are the Prose Edda and Poetic Edda, two collections of texts compiled in the 13th century in Iceland by Snorri Sturluson, a Christian poet and politician, as well as possibly other contributors at the same time.

They are limited by their geography, consisting only of those stories that survived in Iceland, and limited by their time period. The Viking Age is generally considered to have ended around 1050 CE, so Sturluson was compiling these stories two hundred years after the time when Norse paganism would have been the dominant religious practise in Scandinavia or indeed Iceland.

We have other sources than the Eddas, of course, but they are painfully limited: Runestones and archeological artifacts, as well as stories told about the Vikings by people who weren't them, which obviously comes with a lot of biases. The Viking-era Scandinavians themselves simply didn't leave any substantial body of written sources that survived.

Sturluson being a Christian, writing for Christian audiences, also introduces a lot of suspicion of tampering. He might have had incentive to avoid recording certain stories, for fear of being accused of spreading heresy, and he may have edited or altered aspects of the stories he did record to make them palatable to his audience, or to serve his own political purposes. This, of course, is a concern with any author writing anything ever, but since Sturluson is quite literally our only source for so many of these stories, it is impossible to check his work against competing narratives.

The consequence of all of this is that the vast majority of Norse mythology is lost. We do not know the vast majority of what that old religious practise was, we do not know the vast majority of its stories. This was a set of beliefs and stories told and transmitted across populations ranging from what is now the inland plains of Germany to the heights of the mountains of Norway to the shores and harbors of Denmark to parts of modern day Russia. These disparate populations would have had an absolutely enormous range of shared and local religious practises, they would have emphasized and cared about different gods, they would have absorbed and incorporated stories from neighboring religious groups.

This has a couple of consequences. For one thing, the whiny pissbabies crying about Angrboða being portrayed as a person of color in God of War: Ragnarök because "there were no black people in Norse mythology!" are, indeed, full of piss and expired baby oil. They don't know that, because nobody knows that.

Viking sailors made it as far as Constantinople and old Norse was once spoken in parts of Crimea. They even managed to make it across the goddamn Atlantic to found a settlement in Newfoundland, so the idea that old Norse peoples wouldn't know what a person of color is or tell stories about them is just absurd on the face of it. We have no direct evidence that they told stories about gods of color, but to look at the tiny snapshot provided by one Christian poet writing for a Christian audience in Iceland two hundred years after the Christianization of Scandinavia and confidently concluding that people of color couldn't possibly have existed in the Norse imagination is like finding the Q key off a keyboard lying on the ground and concluding there can be no such thing as vowels or the letter L.

The tiny sliver of Norse mythology that has survived to the modern day should to a modern reader be a prompt to imagine the vast possibility of what has been lost, not a reason to reduce the entire culture of my ancestors to whatever bits that were left by the time some dude in Iceland found it interesting and convenient to write them down.

Which leads us on to the other interesting consequence of the facts of Norse mythology.

It is an oral tradition, with no central canon and no central authority, whose religious practises were local and varied, whose stories were designed to be shared and picked up by whoever finds them compelling. Which means that any story we tell, now, about the gods that we find compelling is every bit as "canon" as anything that survives in the Eddas.

Which is to say: not canon at all, unless you decide to believe in it. Or, hell, even if you just find it enjoyable.

God of War: Ragnarök is as canon as Neil Gaiman's Norse Mythology is as canon as Jul i Valhal that ran on Danish TV in 2005 is as canon as the MCU Thor, is as canon as the Prose Edda, is as canon as the half-remembered re-telling of Norse myth I heard from my Danish teacher in class in 1998.

It is often very difficult for a lot of modern audiences to free themselves from the idea of "canon." We seem to instinctively want a certain set of stories to be "the real ones," a certain narrative to be the "official" one, and set adrift without that sense of central authority to guide us, a lot of people exhibit what I would call an almost resentful anxiety. If none of it is definitely true, then what is even the point of any of it? If you can't know for sure which story is the most real, then all of it must be meaningless!

And yeah. It's easy to feel that way. We live in the Age of Canon, the era of the cinematic universe and the franchise, the epoch of copyright. But that is only one way to understand stories and narrative.

If you listen to the stories of the old gods, whether out of the Eddas or re-told in pop culture, and you take some of that with you, and you pass the good bits on to someone else, then you are participating in the oldest and most sacred tradition of Norse mythology. These stories do not belong to any one author (especially not the goddamn Mouse!) or even to any one people. They were telling stories of Thor along the rivers of Russia a thousand years ago, Viking sailors scratched their names in runes in the Hagia Sophia, Islamic artifacts have been found in Viking burials. Those who look at the tradition of my ancestors and feel compelled to do enclosure around them are fools and charlatans, fearful and small-minded.

Our stories are monopolized these days by capital. Canon to them is a tool of enclosure, a way to shut people out of participating in the modern mythology they are trying to build, except with their permission and profit in mind. But there is another way.

Listen to the stories and pass them on. The story you believe in won't be the one everyone likes, and the version you tell won't be the same version someone else passes on from you. But every telling takes the soul of the teller with it, and the stories we weave together in communal tradition become a picture of every storyteller who has contributed to them. And you spite the fucking Mouse.

#tb essay #god of war #gow ragnarok #norse mythology #norse gods #history #prose edda #poetic edda #loki #thor #odin #angrboða

1K notes · View notes

theodysseyofhomer · 10 months

Text

Emily Wilson is a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania. Her translation of the “Odyssey” was published in 2017, and her translation of the “Iliad” will be published in September.

June 28, 2023

In one of the most moving and memorable scenes from the “Iliad,” the great Trojan warrior Hector says farewell to his wife, Andromache, who has urged him not to risk his life by fighting on the plain. He gives their baby back to her, tells her to go home, and reiterates his decision to advance on the enemy.

Around 100 complete English translations of the “Iliad” have been published over the past 400 years. Their variety shows no clear trajectory of cultural change: Some of the more recent Homers are more archaic and less idiomatic than many earlier ones, but some are not. A wide variety of forms are used to “translate” the dactylic hexameter of the original, including prose and free verse as well as several poetic meters.

The translations reflect a wide range of possible interpretations of this short passage. Is Hector harshly scolding Andromache for offering advice about the war, despite her gender? Or is he treating her with gentle pity? Is she worried only about her husband’s death, or is she also concerned about her own imminent enslavement and their baby’s slaughter? Are her concerns valid? Does the warrior risk his life despite his love for his family, or because of it? Why must men fight? Why must women weave? How strange, or how familiar, is the society of the poem?

Each of these translations — along with dozens more — suggests a different understanding of the central themes of courage, marriage, fate and death.

The Original ‘Iliad’ 6. 482-497

The original poem is composed in beautifully musical, metrically regular dactylic hexameter, and designed to be performed out loud: It is poetry for the mouth and ear, not the page.

The scene evokes the complex emotions of three separate characters — the frightened baby, the woman, the man — and it also includes a silent fourth, the enslaved nurse.

The text provides a vivid account not only of Hector’s words, but also of his actions. At the end of the passage, he picks up again the shining helmet that he took off because its plume frightened his little son, and in so doing, he becomes again “bright-helmed Hector,” as the traditional formula of heroic poetry describes him: He again assumes his role and costume as a man who lives and will die by war.

Before this passage, Andromache has pleaded with Hector to adopt a safer strategy, rather than go to almost certain death by meeting the enemy on the open plain. As she reminds him, Hector is risking much more than his own life. His death will entail his wife’s rape and enslavement, their baby’s violent death and the sack of their city.

Hector’s response suggests a fascinatingly contradictory attitude toward his own actions. His firm tone could suggest brash confidence and/or a man steeling himself for a heartbreaking choice to prioritize his own honor over the lives and freedom of everyone he loves — a choice that becomes possible only when presented as no choice at all.

George Chapman (1611)

The first complete translation into English, by the playwright and erstwhile soldier Chapman, creates a staunch, fatalistic version of Hector, reflecting the poet’s interest in Stoicism. Chapman uses a metrical form that was already old-fashioned in his day, “fourteeners,” or rhyming heptameters; the original does not rhyme.

The translation expands on the original in ways that may be startling by modern norms — for instance, by rendering the single word for “tearfully,” dakruon, as “fresh streams of love’s salt fire.”

…This said, th’ heroic sire Gave him his mother; whose fair eyes fresh streams of love’s salt fire Billow’d on her soft cheeks, to hear the last of Hector’s speech ,In which his vows compris’d the sum of all he did beseech In her wish’d comfort. So she took into her od’rous breast Her husband’s gift; who, mov’d to see her heart so much oppress’d, He dried her tears, and thus desir’d: “Afflict me not, dear wife, With these vain griefs. He doth not live, that can disjoin my life And this firm bosom, but my fate; and fate, whose wings can fly? Noble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die, Go home, and set thy housewif’ry on these extremes of thought; And drive war from them with thy maids; keep them from doing nought. These will be nothing; leave the cares of war to men, and me In whom, of all the Ilion race, they take their high’st degree.” On went his helm; his princess home, half cold with kindly fears; When ev’ry fear turn’d back her looks, and ev’ry look shed tears.

Alexander Pope (1715)

Pope’s translation, into elegant rhyming pentameter couplets, was a best seller in the 18th century and remains a classic. Pope adds a great many details entirely of his own invention, inserting anachronistic notions of marriage (“my soul’s far better part”), and explaining emotional responses that are unstated or ambiguous in the original: For example, Homer does not explain why Andromache is crying, but Pope clarifies that it is from “fear.” Pope invents some wonderful aphorisms that have no basis in the original but add zing to the couplet, such as “the first in danger as the first in fame.”

He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, Restored the pleasing burden to her arms; Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, Hush’d to repose, and with a smile survey’d. The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear, She mingled with a smile a tender tear. The soften’d chief with kind compassion view’d, And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued: ”Andromache! my soul’s far better part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart? No hostile hand can antedate my doom, Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. Fix’d is the term to all the race of earth; And such the hard condition of our birth: No force can then resist, no flight can save, All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. No more — but hasten to thy tasks at home, There guide the spindle, and direct the loom: Me glory summons to the martial scene, The field of combat is the sphere for men. Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, The first in danger as the first in fame.” Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes His towery helmet, black with shading plumes. His princess parts with a prophetic sigh, Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye That stream’d at every look; then, moving slow, Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe.

Samuel Butler (1898)

The prose version by the 19th-century novelist and satirist Butler — a lifelong bachelor — suggests a very different set of assumptions about women, metaphysics, emotions (“his heart yearned towards her” for eleēse, “pitied”) and even time management (“daily duties” for erga, “tasks”). Butler treats Homer’s repeated epithets as skippable, so that phaidimos Hector (“glorious Hector”) becomes simply “he.”

With this he laid the child again in the arms of his wife, who took him to her own soft bosom, smiling through her tears. As her husband watched her his heart yearned towards her and he caressed her fondly, saying, “My own wife, do not take these things too bitterly to heart. No one can hurry me down to Hades before my time, but if a man’s hour is come, be he brave or be he coward, there is no escape for him when he has once been born. Go, then, within the house, and busy yourself with your daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants; for war is man’s matter, and mine above all others of them that have been born in Ilion.” He took his plumed helmet from the ground, and his wife went back again to her house, weeping bitterly and often looking back towards him.

Robert Fagles (1990)

Fagles’s best-selling translation, in unmetrical free verse, uses many familiar American idioms and clichés (such as “smiling through her tears,” or “filled with pity,” a metaphor absent from the original). He softens the brusqueness of Hector’s final speech to his wife by rendering daimonie as the gentle “dear one,” and adding “trying to reassure her” and “please,” neither of which appears in the Greek.

Fagles makes Hector’s most iconic phrase, that men must be warriors, sound much chattier and wordier than the original, spreading it over two lines: “as for the fighting / men…”

… So Hector prayed and placed his son in the arms of his loving wife. Andromache pressed the child to her scented breast, smiling through her tears. Her husband noticed, and filled with pity now, Hector stroked her gently, trying to reassure her, repeating her name: “Andromache, dear one, why so desperate? Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate. And fate? No man alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward, I tell you — it’s born with us the day that we are born. So please go home and tend to your own tasks, the distaff and the loom, and keep the women working hard as well. As for the fighting, men will see to that, all who were born in Troy but I most of all.” Hector aflash in arms took up his horsehair-crested helmet once again. And his loving wife went home, turning, glancing back again and again and weeping live warm tears.

Emily Wilson (2023)

In my own translation of the “Iliad,” I echo the metrical regularity of the original by using unrhyming iambic pentameter. I thought long and hard about the multiple narrative perspectives suggested by the original poem, and its resonant ambiguities; in this passage, for example, I use both “beloved” and “loving” for phile — a word that could suggest either, or both — because the feelings of both the wife and the husband are at stake.

The rhetorically punchy qualities of Hector’s speech seemed essential, as well as Hector’s insistent focus on his own defining identity as a warrior. Hector is a deeply loving father and husband who makes the choice to leave his family to almost-certain enslavement and death.

As I read the Greek, we feel heartbroken for all three members of the family (or for all four, counting the silent nurse) — and all the more so because there is no hint of sentimentality in the language, no softness in Hector’s final words. The emotions are sketched with extraordinary concision: The only explicit feeling is Hector’s pity for Andromache’s tears (eleēse), but a world of other emotions is evoked through gesture.

…With these words, he gave his son to his beloved wife. She let him snuggle in her perfumed dress, and tearfully she smiled. Her husband noticed and pitied her. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Strange woman! Come on now, you must not be too sad on my account. No man can send me to the house of Hades before my time. No man can get away from destiny, first set for us at birth, however cowardly or brave he is. Go home and do the things you have to do. Work on your loom and spindle and instruct the slaves to do their household work as well. War is a task for men — for every man born here in Troy, but most especially, me.” When he had finished speaking, glorious Hector picked up his helmet with its horsehair plume. His loving wife set off for home, but kept twisting and turning back to look at him. More and more tears kept flooding down her face.

#emily wilson #quotes #the iliad #hektor #andromakhe #hektor x andromakhe #i know not everyone has nyt subscription but this is fascinating re:translation so i have provided the whole text under the read more :)

266 notes · View notes

mixelation · 4 months

Text

reborn au thinking outloud

so i'm thinking for oto

*the ame trio prevents the 3rd shinobi war from using rain as their stomping ground. this means there's a lot more fighting in sound than the original timeline. also i nearly typed the phrase "konan spanks a young minato over it" so you're welcome for that image

*sound has several ninja clans that are not affiliated in a village, and none of them declare war, but they'll fight foreign shinobi trying to take resources/occupy land/enter towns the shinobi protect/etc. because of this there's a lot of tension and village ninja will usually attack on sight or even occasionally actively hunt down sound shinobi. plus they're facing massive supply problems

*orochimaru comes in with gifts and promises of protection and all the clans jump on this. he's able to make oto as a village by uniting the clans several years earlier than in plasticity

*orochimaru uses the war to kill off most of the adult with any sort of power pretty quickly. but he does implement a lot of things that make the daily life of children and noncombatants better. they have more and better food. their shelters have electricity. he starts up more formalized training for all the kids.

*tori is very like "ummm but i'm special and better :)" and she's not a standout in like 90% of ninja things but she IS an adult competing against kids. it's not hard to convince him she's intelligent, and then she worms her way into the research side of the labs

*i was playing with the idea of orochimaru implementing a ranking system for the "students." so there's like a board somewhere central where everyone is ranked based on completely arbitrary factors. if you're at the top, you get special privileges and orochimaru will be nice to you. if you're at the bottom, you get shittier food and worse chores and orochimaru just ignores you. a rumor starts that defeating a kid at the top gets you moved up, so the top-ranked kids are constantly be targeted by increasingly vicious sneak attacks

*most kids still WANT to be at the top, becauee they're kids. tori is one of of like four who realize the game is to stay very firmly in the middle.

*i think being into research (and, like, good at it) gets tori a lot of one-on-one time with orochimaru regardless of her current ranking, and also she's really good at playing the oto-nin game so he like. likes her. and that's horrible for her. <3 he'll just arbitrarily change her rank to see what she does. he puts her at the bottom and refuses to talk to her for a month and she eats nothing but plain rice and pretends very hard she's not upset he's ignoring her. he puts her at the top to see what happens when someone tries to ambush her in her sleep. it's fun (for him)!!!!!

*i think it would also be pretty IC for him to make her do upsetting lab things and then she has to play a horrible game of acting upset for him but not TOO upset. rough

*i had a super clear idea of what the catalyst for tori jumping ship would be and it seems i have. forgotten LMAO

*NO WAIT. she catches wind he has her on his shortlist for the cursed seal :)

#reborn au

80 notes · View notes

maximumharmonything · 1 month

Text

When reading "The Remarried Empress" for the first time, I was so intrigued by Navier's monologue in the first chapter. I thought the premise of the webtoon was great, and I was so excited to learn more about the former Empresses and the world around Navier. Unfortunately, the former Empresses were almost never mentioned and the world building wasn't a central part of the story.

I was so disappointed that I decided to make my own. Thanks to the really talented @vanisagi27 my vision for the very first Trovy Empress came to life.

Here's the lore I created for her:

Ellinier Constantina Trovy

The first Trovy Empress (6th empress of the Empire) .

The Eastern empire was 200 years old when this marriage happened. The Eastern Empire was still in its earlier years. After the 60 year war, it needed a strong monarch to govern it and maintain what was conquered during the war. A marriage was arranged with the third daughter of the Trovy family. This marriage allowed the Trovy's to keep their kingdom intact and created an alliance that lasted over a thousand years.

The Trovy kingdom was famous for educating their daughters and sons the same way. All children were educated in politics, finances, warfare and management, with only the heir having to be versed in martial arts.

This alliance benefitted both parties. The Eastern Empire greatly benefitted from the guidance of a strong and capable Empress and the Trovy kingdom was able to maintain its independence. The Eastern Empire continued to conquer its neighboring kingdoms until only 5 were left in the Old continent:

- The Trovy kingdom from the North East coast;

- The Bluvohan kingdom from the South West coast;

- The South Kingdom from the Great Plains;

- The Whitemond kingdom from the Deep West;

- and The Western Kingdom of the Lazlo.

She was married to Julius Antonius Victor for 42 years. They got married when she was 20 years old (he was 3 years older than her). Even though there was no romantic love betweem them their marriage was a happy one. They maintained a close friendship throughout their lives. The Empress spent most of her free time with her close friend Marchioness Falhan. The Emperor on the other hand spent most of his free time with his childhood friend Duke Tuania.

She was beloved by the commoners. She created laws to protect the conquered people and made it legal for the conquered kingdoms to sent representative to the Senate. She made sure every conquered nation was present when the Foundation Law was written. This legal code, although modified is still being used today.

She gave birth to 6 children. 4 lived to adulthood. Her oldest son inherited the throne.

P.S.

I know that some things are not making sense right now (for example, the last name of the Emperor being Victor instead of Vict), but I promise it will make sense later.

Also, I made the Trovy a foreign royal family instead of nobles of the Eastern Empire.

#the remarried empress #empress navier #navier ellie trovi #rashta #sovieshu #webtoon #art #fantasy #byzantine inspired fashion

28 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 2 years

Text

Secret Clones AU

Short version: Secret Clones AU is the clones going into hiding in plain sight across the galaxy to force a fair wage and also to keep the babies safe from Kaminoans

The clones figure out the plan to take advantage of them, brain chips, etc. several years before the war hits. IDK how, maybe Jango decided to take a closer look with Mij and went Oh Shit. Doesn't matter. Point is, they caught on and decided that they needed to uhhhhh get Out.

There are millions of clones, yes, but there are tens of thousands of planets.

Once the chips are out and someone's jabbed them with anti-aging serum... they're not that different from standard humans.

And it's not exactly hard to tie up the Kaminoans long enough to get off planet.

So what happens is that a while, let's say a year and a half, before the war kicks off, you have a mass exodus from Kamino, and a wide dispersal of clones. They are generally staying together in groups of about half a dozen, claiming to be brothers, so that there's a 16-18-ish looking clone to take lead, with progressively younger cadets to look after. Each one has a commander they can 'report' to in case of emergency, and if something goes real bad, they can call in an Alpha (and Alphas can call in Jango in a worst case scenario).

It's still sort of a military structure, but... it's a phone tree.

And you have one of these groups of half a dozen clones in every major city. There are thousands of planets, and most of those planets have more than one city. Denon and Coruscant are nothing but city, so they can get counted as dozens of cities on their own. It's easy to disappear in places like that.

It's so easy for the clones, before anyone knows them, to just... disappear. Go into hiding in plain sight.

It's not like more than a handful of people know what to look for.

(It's not like they have a centralized record of who went where.)

(It's just the phone tree.)

They still get real excited-happy-eager when they run into a Jedi.

They want to work with Jedi. They're the good guys! And they're cool!

But your army did a mass desertion before the war started and finding/recruiting all of them is going to take a stupid amount of money. You cannot hire a bounty hunter for each and every clone.

And as @bytebun put it:

Somebody two years later: you look …familiar. Have we met? Clone: haha I get that a lot just one of those faces

AND THEY CAN GET AWAY WITH IT BECAUSE THE GALAXY IS HECKING MASSIVE

I think the Republic has to like… negotiate with Jango and the Alphas and set up paid contracts if they want these Ultra Skilled Warriors to fight for them.

The clones can fight. Some of them even want to fight. They are good at this and they recognize that many of the things that are occurring under Separatist invasion are Mega Bad.

But like. Pay them and treat them as citizens, first.

The Jedi are even more confused about this identical army that really loves them than they are in canon Where the heck did you guys come from Who trained you Why do you like us What the heck is going on

"Someone wanted us to be a trap for you but we took the trap out. Here we have a sample if you want. Anyway. We like you guys and want to fight with you because honestly civilian life is way understimulating. Let me punch a droid."

I think a few of the clones do 'scouting' where they voluntarily help a Jedi in the field to gather information on their validity as Friends. Cody keeps a number of spreadsheets that are just Various Jedi Encounters.

Rex does a scouting mission with Kenobi&Skywalker and just goes to Cody like "Listen. I know he's insane. But. I want that one."

Rex just "I call dibs" "Cody. Cody did you hear me. Dibs, I call dibs."

@catboydogma: stats for pong krell are all zeroes

Absolute shit tier Jedi They play rock paper scissors to decide who has to deal with him

A solid half of the clones don't get recruited because the lack of advanced aging (past a certain point) means they're physically still minors and My Dad (Alphas and CCs) Said No. They stay behind on their various planets to look after The Real Babies.

"Let me ask my dad" "Wait--" "He said no."

Just want these boys to have Civilian Lives they can return to or at least experience before war gets them all fucked up.

I think some of them try to Make Connections with influential people (whether politicians or like... Space Influencers) so they have people vouching for them once the war kicks off. And there can be at least some public pushback on functionally enslaving them.

"I can't believe you manipulated people into liking you! That's so mean!" "Well you see. I wanted to survive past the age of eleven. So."

#star wars #the clone wars #Commander Cody #Captain Rex #phoenix posts

885 notes · View notes

sw5w · 3 months

Text

Battle Droids Turn in Formation

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:49:29

#Star Wars #Episode I #The Phantom Menace #Naboo #Great Grass Plains #Battle of Naboo #Battle of the Great Grass Plains #unidentified battle droid #B1 infantry battle droid #MTT #Multi-Troop Transport #E-5 blaster rifle #Central Control Computer #Droid Control Ship #BlasTech Industries #Baktoid Armor Workshop

0 notes

space-blue · 1 year

Text

Lore for the Ash clans of Pandora

Meet Kesa of the txepìva

Kesa is one of the ash Na'vi, from a txepìva clan. She lives along an enormous volcanic fault with constant eruptions. The soil is very rich there, but due to the instability of their home, Kesa's people are nomadic. As a result, there can be fierce competition for resources.

Kesa is a Claimer. She scouts ahead of her clan with a small band in search of old or new oasis that will provide foraging, hunting, and water. If they encounter a party from another clan, they will engage in ritualistic combat. As a warrior, it's Kesa's speciality. She's an alright hunter, but she was trained to fight and kill other Na'vi specifically. If the claiming party makes a strong, frightful display, they might win the location and chase off the other tribe. If not, they'll alert their own to divert their path.

If things are desperate enough, clans might face off in actual combat. Conditions are much harsher along the volcanoes.

Txepìva Na'vi have darker skin with purplish stripes. Due to frequent low visibility caused by ash clouds and smoke, they have larger eyes, of a deep amber-red colour, and larger ears than their forest counterparts. Their nostrils are also wider, but can be closed completely shut. They share a good breathing capacity with the Metkayina, as they may cross patches of toxic gas and have to get under cover/upwind. Their sense of smell is the most acute of all Na'vi.

They don't practice war paints, but they make thick mixtures they smear around their eyes to help combat irritation from ash and gases and wards against insects.

Unlike other clans, Txepìva Na'vi have three leaders. One leads the clan according to memory. They keep track of their progress through the year, and the movements of the volcanoes and lava flows. They work closely with the Claimers/Scouts, as does the war leader. That leader has a more minor role, activated only when the clan decides to fight. At such times only the war leader's decisions are followed, to reduce confusion and division. The final leader is their Tsahìk.

Txepìva clans have no central leader, the way Tonowari has influence over other villages. How peaceful they are entirely depends on how resource rich the environment is at the time.

The Txepìva use no ikran or pa'li. Food is just too scarce and they aren't native to the volcanic plains. However they hunt alongside cousins of the nantang (viperwolf) that live in small family packs, are larger and adapted to desertic conditions. They also use birds, mated pairs that travel with them and use tsaheylu to communicate what they've seen from the sky. It's not uncommon for a young couple of Claimers to be gifted a pair of such birds, helping them to work in tandem over great distances, using them a lot like humans would messanger pigeons.

As you may imagine, Txepìva Na'vi are extremely powerful distance runners. They're one of the few Na'vi to favour shoes, which they make by braiding a fire resistant plant, and use to tread over lava flows that aren't fully cooled and over obsidian ground. They also value metal tools and have several RDA issue items in constant rotation among them as they get bartered and borrowed.

The Txepìva are masters of using fire to hunt, cornering animals and using smoke to asphyxiate, but also poison. They brew strong toxins and apply them to arrows (they use short, sturdy bows), or blow darts. When you don't have a lot of prey, you have to kill it, and fast. Though they remove contaminated flesh around the wound, Txepìva meat has a reputation for being unpalatable to strangers because of remaining toxins. The ash people have long since gained immunity and don't notice it.

Have some lineart~

#avatar lore #all 100% made up #use freely and build on it #credit appreciated #asks open for more #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar 3 #which will disprove all of this #avatar oc #na'vi #na'vi oc #fem na'vi #fanart #na'vi life #my art #james cameron gimme a job #please

265 notes · View notes

workersolidarity · 29 days

Text

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚨

ZIONIST COLONIAL SETTLERS BLOCK THE ENTRANCE OF HUMANITARIAN AID INTO THE GAZA STRIP

📹 Scenes from the racist, Zionist colonial settlers blocking the transfer of aid into the Gaza Strip with the backing of the Israeli occupation army.

"The best way to end the war is to transfer them to Europe," an "Israeli" settler tells The Grayzone News.

"I don't think another million and a half refugees will make any difference for the Europeans," he added.

For once we agree!

Sending the Eastern and Central European colonists back to Europe would make little difference for the Europeans.

And so we propose sending these European colonial settlers back where they came from.

To leave the native Palestinian population alone, and, along with the smaller populations of Arab Jews and Christians, to form a single, secular Palestinian state from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea.

Yes, plain and simple, we call for an end to the colonial ethno-apartheid-state of "Israel".

#source

@WorkerSolidarityNews

29 notes · View notes

moriartyluver · 2 months

Text

ARE YOU MINE CHAPTER III

"FIFTY QUID FOR A CUP OF COFFEE?!”

"Keep your fucking voice down, Sherly!" (Name) whisper-yelled at the noirette "We didn't come here to drink the stupid overpriced coffee anyways."

It was a Monday afternoon, about 4 ish now, and (Name), as well as her fellow band mates, had the bright idea to go to an expensive coffee shop in central London.

So here they were, in an exclusive coffee shop full of white men in suits or stressed out secretaries, and the occasional rich women hanging out.

"Kopi Luwak.." James muttered "What even is that..? It's so damn expensive..."

"Bet you could still afford it with those sugar daddies of yours," Sherlock remarked before (Name) kicked his leg under the table to shut him up

Obviously they weren't here without reason. (Namen had seen a TikTok talking about all the places to find a rich boyfriend, which she wasn't really interested in, but she decided that because coffee shops usually were full of businessmen around this time of day, it would be a perfect place to find themselves a rich manager.

John took out his phone, Googling the expensive coffee, before showing James and Sherlock who sat opposite in the little booth with wide eyes.

"It's made of what?!" James exclaimed

"You guys didn't know that?" (Name) raised an eyebrow

"What and you did?" Sherlock mimicked "No wonder..you're always picking up random facts."

"Why would they drink that crap in the first place anyways?" James asked, looking through the Wikipedia article on John's phone. "Like why do they need a weird cat raccoon thing to eat the coffee cherries and then take their poop for the coffee..?"

"It more because of processing rather than the actual crap that comes out." (Name) said "Hey what if I order a large cup of plain coffee and then get some extra cups for free so we don't look stupid while also not spending a shit ton on coffee either?"

"Good idea, I'm not paying." Sherlock said bluntly

"Fucking cheapskate." (Name) rolled her eyes "I have enough to buy a cup but it's like twenty quid for a large cup...I'll make sure to get as many sugar packets as possible, okay?" She said, standing up to go order at the counter. Everyone nodded, prompting (name) to leave.

As she waited in the queue, a man carrying three cups on coffee as well as a few biscuits and cakes in little boxes. His arms were full and he was clearly struggling to keep everything together, not to mention, he looked exhausted!

With the current rush in the coffee shop, it wasn't really that surprising, but based on the man's appearance, he did seem to be quite the wealthy businessman. She could see the little Cartier watch on his wrist and his suit was clearly expensive.

Another, likely wealthy, businessman and walked right by him, ruining the balance of items and causing the brown haired gentleman to drop his coffee cups. (Name), who's attention was turned away for a moment as she moved along in the queue, turned around as if she had spidey sense or something.

Before they could hit the ground though, (name), who was stood fairly close, managed to catch it all in time, almost comically.

'How the fuck did I manage that..?'

'How on earth did she manage that..?'

"Yikes .." (Name) chuckled awkwardly, "that was a close one" she said, handing the items to him with a small smile. She looked up and met eyes with the stranger, her mind racing back to the other day.

"You're.." The green eyed man muttered to himself, recognising her as the girl Herder knew of as (Name)

"I see my reputation really does precede me.." She hummed "The world really is small, huh?"

"it is indeed," Albert smiled "I've heard..great..things about you and your band."

(name) blinked in surprise "Really? because I'd expect that Mr Von Herder would paint me out as some sort of war criminal..hah.." her eyes drifted back to the rest of the band in their little booth "I'm assuming he told you about my little musical ambitions.." she said as Sherlock mouthed a 'the fuck are you doing?' to her

"He did," Albert confirmed with a nod, then looked to his watch on his wrist, cursing under his breath "Deepest apologies, but I must be going..my brothers are waiting for me." He said, somehow retrieve it a business card from his pocket and handing it to a dumbfounded (Name) before taking off.

Her eyes scanned the card.

Albert J. Moriarty

'What a fancy name..'

(Name) eventually came back as planned, the business card in the pocket of her jacket, and a large cup of black coffee, a few empty cups and a lot of sugar packets.

"So, were you just eyefucking that rich guy or am I high?" Sherlock asked, right before (name) kicked him in the shin. "Ow!"

"I wasn't.." she raised her eyebrows, moving her eyes around in a strange manner, conscious of the members of polite society around them "you know..you lot couldn't hear me, but rich guy was at Herder's the other day, and I just happened to remember him while he was about to drop all his stuff and have a big dramatic disaster." She said, sitting down beside Sherlock, opposite James, who looked anxious to say something.

"Anyways," (Name) continued with a grin. "He gave me this." She slid the business card onto the middle of the table, recreating that one scene from 'American Psycho' "mission: find potential manager is a success!"

John picked it up, inspecting it closely, then put it back on the fancy table "this is legit! The card and the font and everything, it looks like a real rich guy business card."

"I don't think I've ever heard you say legit before." Sherlock said "also how do you know so much about business cards?"

"A lot of old guys think I'm gay."

"Moving on," James said, giving John a little side eye before allowing a wide smile to creep up onto his already cheerful face "I have some news~"

"You're starting an onlyfans?" (Name) asked

"No-" James scrunched up his nose, looking offended "I, your extraordinary bassist, got us a gig."

"You did?!" (Name) exclaimed "Are you for real?!"

"I did indeed," he said smugly, leaning back in the plush seat "It's a birthday party-"

"I knew there was gonna be a catch," (Name) sighed, resting her forehead against the table as Sherlock gave her a sympathetic pat on the back.

James shook his head "it's not a kid's party, don't worry. The birthday girl's turning 18 and she wanted the party to be like a concert I guess, so she wants us to do a hunch of Arctic monkeys covers instead of the usual stuff," he explained

"If she wanted a concert, then why doesn't she just go to one?" Sherlock groaned

(Name) lifted her head up "in what universe would the Arctic monkeys play at a birthday party full of kids? Besides, they're not on tour in the uk anymore, so it's not like she could go to a concert for her birthday either." She said "I mean, it's fine as long as the songs she picks out are good...I don't wanna have to play any of the TikTok famous ones anymore."

"She seems like the type to like every song, but the list I've got is a bit of a mix," James said, pulling out his phone, reading off his notes app "Teddy picker, Bet you look good on the dance floor, cigarette smoke..stuff like that."

"Well that's bearable then," (name) nodded "When's the party?"

"Uhhh.." James trailed off nervously "Friday.."

"Oh, next Fridays alright, a bit soon, but we can manage," she said, brushing away her hair from her face

"I mean, this Friday..like in four days.." The blond sank into his chair, bracing himself for (Name)'s reaction.

"What?" She blinked "Are you fucking shitting me?"

"It'll be fine, (name)," Sherlock reassured, dragging his words "you always work best under pressure anyways."

"Yeah well you lot clearly fucking don't." (Name) glared at her friend beside her, then sighed deeply "Okay, this is fine. We'll have to start practicing all the songs immediately, it should be fine considering we've done most of them already," she muttered to herself "The band t-shirts I ordered should be here by Wednesday..we'll be fine..we'll be fine."

The noirette groaned "see, you're freaking out over nothing."

"As usual." James added.

(Name) rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee. "As the band leader, I'm the one who needs to be in charge of things until we get a manager, that means I have the right to freak out over this shit."

"Who made you band leader?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Name) scoffed "you think you would do any better? I literally just got us a potential rich manager just by being pretty and memorable. Besides, I'm the leader singer and guitarist, and the only girl and we all know girls are much more mature than you xy chromosome havers." she said, putting a hand to her chest.

"She has a point." John agreed

"Shut up, John." Sherlock kicked him beneath the table. He turned to (name) "So are we gonna start practicing today or..?"

"I don't know, do you want to sound like shit or..?" (Name) mimicked. "Of course we'll practice today, we don't have that much time, stupid." she said, standing up "We need to make use of the next 100 or so hours we have left."

"You calculated it?" James asked

She rolled her eyes again "Obviously."

"I literally have nothing to wear, James, I'm freaking the fuck out," (Name) spoke to her phone, propped up on her desk as she walked around the room "I mean I'm not much of a party goer, so obviously I'm not gonna have party clothes, but I thought, maybe I'd have something!"

James sighed, his face filling the screen on (name)'s phone as they FaceTimed. "Just put on one of those shirts and a pair of bootcut jeans and you're done." He suggested as she dug through her wardrobe.

"No, I need something wow, you know. Something that'll make an impression." She said, pulling something out from the hangers. A cheetah print coat. "Perfect."

"What is it?" James called out to her

"I just so happened to find this old thing," she said, going back to her phone and showing him the jacket "If anything I own screams arctic monkeys, this definitely does."

"Ohh..that is clever. You put on some red lipstick and a pair of boots and you're done, might as well change your name to arabella." James smiled before returning to his mirror to apply some eyeliner. "Do you think sherly and John would be ready by now?"

(Name) rolled her eyes as she's looked for a pair of jeans/black skirt to wear with band t shirt she had got and a pair of black boots, putting her phone down so James could only see her cieling while she changed. "Knowing sherly, he's probably asleep or something. I swear if he didn't wear that outfit I planned for him, I'll beat his ass."

"Yeah, he really suits that whole emo boy look, I think it's the hair." James agreed as (name) propped her phone back up once she was done. "I'd bring some eyeliner and eyeshadow just in case be does use the cheap stuff you lent him."

"I'd be surprised if he even managed to open the makeup at all by himself, he's so incompetent." She sat down, quickly putting on her makeup, messing it up on purpose

James laughed "Well at least he can play guitar, half decently." He said "Hey you think I should look through my 2020 alt stuff, see what I can salvage?"

"God no." (Name) advised. "Unless you plan on getting tomato's thrown at you the entire gig."

"Yeah you're right," the blond admitted "those boots have outgrown me anyways since I started taking hormones." He said, putting down his eyeliner. "You done yet?"

"Mhm."

"Gimme a spin, we need to mutually agree on your cuntiness." James said, his voice going up a couple octaves.

(Name) snorted in amusement, backing away once she'd finished so he could see her full frame, twirling around, kicking her leg up to the back of her knee as she posed, eliciting a few cheers and 'yas queen slay!'s (Obviously not in a serious sense) from James. He even took a few screen shots so he could post them on his Instagram story after the 'concert'.

"Alright. I'm gonna hang up now,so I can get going." She said eventually, thumb hovering over the 'end call' button. "Call sherly and tell him to be at john's in like Ten minutes ish. He's driving us, Yknow."

"Yeah cool." James said, fixing up his smudged eyeliner, emphasising those bright blue eyes of his. "I'll remind him of your little murder threats, too if you want."

"Alright, see you later." (Name) chuckled hanging up.

"Look who's not an hour late," (name) called out her friend as she saw him approaching johns house just as she was about to knock on the door.

"Look who isn't an hour early," Sherlock retorted. His deep blue eyes landed on a little waggon beside her feet. "Is that..?"

"My guitar and amp? Yeah, it is." She looked at sherlocks own equipment on his old skateboard "I'm assuming we had a similar idea, just different executions. Just goes to show why I'm smarter than you."

"Tell that to your exam results." He spat

(Name) scoffed "as if yours are any better."

"Bitch."

"Druggie."

"Punk."

"Emo."

Sherlock gasped dramatically "I am not an emo!"

"Well either that or your zesty," (name) smirked "I mean, with that hair, you definitely have tried a little more than most."

"I'll have you know I've only ever been attracted to p-" Sherlock was cut off by the door opening, revealing John and James at the door.

"There you two are!" John beamed. He looked his usual self, but instead of his usual dull jumper, he wore a black t shirt with the words 'Baker Street boys' in a thick white font, just like the other members, except Sherlock was wearing a pair of baggy dark jeans with an embroidered skull to match his skull ring, (name) was..slaying, to put it simply and James was wearing a pair of pair of straight legged jeans, covered in rhinstones to match the glitter on his eyes.

"Alright, we all ready? We need to hurry if we wanna get there on time." James said, exiting the door to walk towards johns old car. "Put your stuff in the back and we'll get going."

"Didnt you say we'd be going to one of those rich neighbourhoods?" (Name) asked, putting her guitar in the boot of the car carefully.

"Yeah," James nodded, opening the door to the passenger seat "The kids turning 18, so her parents let her do whatever the fuck she wanted. One of those new money types, you know."

"That explains the money we're getting then." Sherlock said, shutting the door to the boot "If we can get more of their little rich friends to hire us for a parties or something, we'll be rich in no time."

"Which will only happen if we don't play like shit." (Name) said harshly as she put on her seatbelt "You guys remember the song list?"

"Considering we've been playing it non stop since Monday, yes, yes we do." James peaked behind his seat to look at her. He looked at Sherlock sat beside her. "You need to get your make up done before we start playing."

"It's not my fault that shits so difficult." Sherlock groaned, folding his pale arms over his chest "Cant we just do it before we start playing?"

(Name) sighed "you really are incompetent, arent you?"

"At least my parents love me."

"Are you the band?" A girl, about 19 or 20, asked the four at the door.

(Name) held up her red guitar "obviously." She said "Where should we set up?"

"Follow me," the girl said, guiding them through the large house to a big hall "There's only a few people here, you're lucky you arrived early." She explained while the band dragged their equipment in there. "You can set up in here, get the band stuff out that car, and you can start playing when there's like more people or whatever. The birthday girl's with her friends right now, but she'll come in here soon."

"Alright, thanks." James murmured as she walked away "god this place is fucking huge." He said, turning to (Name) who was busy plugging her amp in

"I hate rich people." She whispered to him "Bet they have a pool or like a cinema room or some shit...Wonder how they could afford all this." She turned to Sherlock who had a blank expression "go help John get his drums in, dude." Sherlock rolled his eyes, walking out and dumping his guitar on the floor.

"Her dad's an mp and her mums like a model, vogue and everything," James said, setting up his bass guitar

(Name) narrowed her eyes at him as she put the mic down "how do you know that?"

James chuckled nervously "err..google?"

"Whatever." She said, turning her attention to Sherlock and John who were bringing in the drums. "Hurry up, I heard some cars pulling up out there. We still have a couple of things to do."

"Actually we're pretty much done after we put these instruments in place," John said matter of factly then paused "oh wait, Sherlock needs to do his Makeup."

"You're making me sound like a girl." Sherlock glared "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. (Name), can't you help me out?” He begged with a whiney voice.

“Sit down.” She said, pointing to the drummers stool before pulling out her makeup bag, kneeling before him. “Close your eyes.” She said, applying dark blue eyeshadow on the centre of sherlocks eyelids, surrounding it with glittery black eyeshadow on the edges. She took out an eyeliner pencil, asking Sherlock to open his eyes again and look up while she applied it to his waterline, smudging it slightly.

“Done.” She held up her pocket mirror to his face. He took it, looking at his eyes slowly. “You look like Effy stonem if she was a guy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sherlock said, shutting the motto and handing it back to (name) who was putting away her makeup. “Thanks.” He said reluctantly.

“Don’t mention it.” (Name) stood up, checking the mic to make sure it was working correctly.

John peaked outside the open entrance, looking down the hall to see a storm of teenagers, mostly 17 and 18. He turned to the band, sitting down by his drums “ready?”

“Barely.” (Name) groaned, watching the crowd gradually form while someone switched off the lights. She could smell the faint stench of alcohol flood the air, along with the scent of body odour and..was that weed..?

“PST,” someone hissed from the side of the makeshift stage. It was the girl from earlier, the birthday girl’s older sister. “Hurry up, these kids are waiting.” She whispered

(Name) ran a hand through her (hair colour) hair, messing it up on purpose as she picked up her guitar, leaning forward to the mic in front of her.

(Quick A/N: this is the first song btw, super good, please listen to it.)

It made a loud noise before she spoke. “Um..we’re the Baker Street boys,” she said nervously “Happy birthday,” she shut her eyes trying to remember the name

“Tabitha, happy birthday Tabitha.” She repeats. “My name’s (Name), f-from the Baker Street boys, here with Sherlock,” cue a few giggles at his name “James, and our drummer, John.” She hesitantly smiled. “And this is ‘I bet that you look good on the dance floor, by the Arctic Monkeys, which is funny because uh..we’re doing only arctic monkeys covers today, haha.”

Crickets.

“A-Anyways, make some noise, or whatever.” She muttered as she took a deep breath, strumming her guitar while John started drumming. “Stop making the eyes at me, and I’ll stop making the eyes at you.” Her voice had cracked mid line in a whine, but somehow she had pulled it off, sparking a few of the sweaty teenagers to start singing along, despite it not being a typical TikTok song.

“What it is that surprises me is that I don’t really want you to,” she sang, gripping the mic with one song whilst the rest of the band played in the background.

Surprisingly or not, (name) was stiff, lacking any stage presence she may have previously had while she attempted to sing and play at the same time. She couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but thank god Sherlock was there as the backup guitarist.

“And your shoulders are frozen,” She continued, slowly getting more confident

“Cold as the night!”

At least the others managed to remember to do back up vocals.

“Oh but you’re an explosion!” (Name) had slowly begun to realise the rawness in her voice actually made this particular cover sound fairly good, and with the encouragement of those around her, the confidence had started to settle in.

“You’re dynamite!”

“Your name isn’t Rio but I don’t care for sand and lighting the fuse might result in a bang b-b-bang-oh!” She sang, fingers pointed in a gun while the other strummed at the guitar strapped over her chest “I bet that you look good on the dance floor, I don’t know if you’re looking for romance or, I don’t know what you’re looking for! I said I bet that you look good on the dance floor, dancing to electro pop like a robot from 1984, well from 1984!”

“I wish that you’d stop ignoring me because it’s sending me to despair. Without a sound, yeah you’re calling me, and I don’t think it’s very fair,” she raised her voice slightly as she tried to sing over the increasingly loud crowd before her, her body much less stiff than when she started. She continued with the chorus, earning a few cheers as the band played better with each passing second.

“Well from 1984..!” She almost panted, losing breath as she strained her vocal chords “Oh, there ain't no love, no Montagues or Capulets, Just banging tunes and DJ sets and dirty dance floors and dreams of naughtiness”

While she sang that particular line, a face popped into her head, or rather the face. What was the posh blond man doing in her thoughts while she was screaming her lungs out singing some indie rock song?

“Well I bet that you look good on the dance floor! I don’t know if you’re looking for romance or what, I don’t know what you’re looking for!!” Frankly, she doubted she would ever see him again, as upsetting as that seemed. Not like she had much of a chance though. “I said, I bet that you look good on the dance floor,” it would be funny, a smart guy with a rockstar wannabe like her “d-dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984,” She did want to see him again though…but he was probably an apparition or something, that explained why he looked so angelic. No. She had to see him again some day.

“Said from 1984!”

A/N: I wonder what will happen next >:). I’m so sorry for those who are only reading for Liam, I promise he’s gonna make another appearances in like a couple of chapters. Also this arc is kinda inspired by the Pistols series so watch that because it’s so good. Off topic but I got a cat and he’s so cute but also looks like Alex turner it’s hilarious.

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp william #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #—are you mine 🎸

22 notes · View notes

mapsontheweb · 9 months

Photo

The expansion of the Roman Empire to AD 117.

by Undevicesimus

From its humble origins as a group of villages on the Tiber in the plains of Latium, Rome came to control one of the greatest empires in history, reaching from the Atlantic Ocean to the Tigris and from the North Sea to the Sahara Desert. Its extensive legacy continues to serve as a lowest common denominator not only for the nations and peoples within its erstwhile borders, but much of the modern world at large. Roman law is the foundation for present-day legal systems across the globe, the Latin language survives in the Romance languages spoken on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean and beyond, Roman settlements developed into some of Europe’s most important cities and stood model for many others, Roman architecture left some of history’s finest manmade landmarks, Christianity – the Roman state religion from AD 395 – remains the world’s dominant faith and Rome continues to feature prominently in Western popular culture… Rome rose in a geographically favourable location: on the left bank of the Tiber, not too far from the sea but far enough inland to be able to control important trade routes in central Italy: southwest from the Apennines alongside the Tiber, and from Etruria southeast into Latium and Campania. In later ages, the Romans always had much to tell about the founding and early history of their city: tales about the twin brothers Romulus and Remus being raised by a she-wolf, the founding of Rome by Romulus on 21 April 753 BC and the reign of the Seven Kings (of which Romulus was the first). According to Roman accounts, the last King of Rome – Tarquinius Superbus – was expelled in 510 BC, after which the Roman aristocracy established a republic ruled by two annually elected magistrates (Latin: pl. consulis) with the support of the Senate (Latin: senatus), a council made up of the leaders of the most prominent Roman families. Often at odds with their neighbours, the Romans considered military service one of the greatest contributions common people could make to the state and the easiest way for a consul to gain both power and prestige by protecting the republic. The Romans booked their first major triumph by conquering the Etruscan city Veii in 396 BC and went on to defeat most of the Latin cities in central Italy by 338 BC, despite the Celtic sack of Rome in 387 BC. Throughout the second half of the fourth century BC, the republic expanded in two different ways: direct annexation of enemy territory and the creation of a complex system of alliances with the peoples and cities of Italy. Shortly after 300 BC, nearly all the peoples of Italy united to stop Roman expansion once and for all – among them the Samnites, Umbrians, Etruscans and Celts. Rome obliterated the coalition in the decisive Battle of Sentinum (295 BC) and thus became the strongest power in Italy. By 264 BC, Rome controlled the Italian peninsula up to the Po Valley and was powerful enough to challenge its principal rival in the western Mediterranean: Carthage. The First Punic War began when the Italic people of Messana called for Roman help against both Carthage and the Greeks of Syracuse, a request which was accepted surprisingly quickly. The Romans allied with Syracuse, conquered most of Sicily and narrowly defeated the Carthaginian navy at Mylae in 264 BC and Ecnomus in 256 BC – the largest naval battles of Antiquity. Roman fleets gained a decisive victory off the Aegates Islands in 241 BC, ending the war and forcing the Carthaginians to abandon Sicily. Taking advantage of Carthage’s internal troubles, Rome seized Sardinia and Corsica in 238 BC. Rome’s frustration at Carthage’s resurgence and subsequent conquests in Spain sparked the Second Punic War, in which the Carthaginian commander Hannibal crossed the Alps and invaded the Italian peninsula. The Romans suffered massive defeats at the Trebia in 218 BC, Lake Trasimene in 217 BC and most famously at Cannae in 216 BC where over 50,000 Romans were slain – the largest military loss in one day in any army until the First World War. However, Hannibal failed to press his advantage and continued an increasingly pointless campaign in Italy while the Romans conquered the Carthaginian territory in Spain and ultimately brought the war to Africa. Hannibal’s army made it back home but was decisively defeated by Scipio Africanus at the Battle of Zama in 202 BC, securing Rome’s hard-fought victory in arguably the most important war in Roman history. Firmly in command of much of the western Mediterranean, Rome turned its attention eastwards to Greece. Less than fifty years after the Second Punic War, Rome had crushed the Macedonian kingdom – an erstwhile ally of Hannibal – and formally annexed the Greek city-states after the destruction of Corinth in 146 BC. That very same year, the Romans finished off the helpless Carthaginians in much the same way, burning the city of Carthage to the ground and annexing its remaining territory into the new province of Africa. With Carthage, Macedon and the Greek cities out of the way, Rome was free to deal with the Hellenic kingdoms in Asia Minor and the Middle East, the remnants of Alexander the Great’s empire. In 133 BC, Attalus III of Pergamum left his realm to Rome by testament, gaining the Romans their first foothold in Asia. As the Romans expanded their borders, the unrest back in Rome and Italy increased accordingly. The wars against Carthage and the Greeks had seriously crippled the Roman peasants whom abandoned their home to campaign for years in distant lands, only to come back and find their farmland turned into a wilderness. Many peasants were thus forced to sell their land at a ridiculously low price, causing the emergence of an impoverished proletarian mass in Rome and an agricultural elite in control of vast swathes of countryside. This in turn disrupted army recruitment, which heavily relied on middle class peasants who were able to afford their own arms and armour. Two possible solutions could remove this problem: a redistribution of the land so that the peasantry remained wealthy and large enough to be able to afford their military equipment and serve in the army, or else allowing the proletarian masses to enter military service and make the army into a professional body. However, both options would threaten the position of the Roman Senate: a powerful peasantry could press calls for more political influence and a professional army would bind soldiers’ loyalty to their commander instead of the Senate. The senatorial elite thus stubbornly clung to the existing institutions which were undermining the republic they wanted to uphold. More importantly, the Senate’s attitude and increasingly shaky position, in addition to the growing internal tensions, created a perfect climate for overly ambitious commanders seeking to turn military prestige gained abroad into political power back home. Roman successes on the frontline nevertheless continued: Pergamum was turned into the province of Asia in 129 BC, Roman forces sacked the city of Numantia in Spain that same year, the Balearic Islands were conquered in 123 BC, southern Gaul became the new province of Gallia Narbonensis in 121 BC and the Berber kingdom of Numidia was dealt a defeat in the Jughurtine War (112 – 106 BC). The latter conflict provided Gaius Marius the opportunity to reform his army without senatorial approval, allowing proletarians to enlist and creating a force of professional soldiers who were loyal to him before the Senate. Marius’ legions proved their efficiency at the Battles of Aquae Sextiae in 102 BC and Vercellae in 101 BC, virtually annihilating the migratory invasions of the Germanic Cimbri and Teutones. Marius subsequently used his power and prestige to secure a land distribution for his victorious forces, thus setting a precedent: any successful commander with an army behind him could now manipulate the political theatre back in Rome. Marius was succeeded as Rome’s leading commander by Lucius Cornelius Sulla, who gained renown when Rome’s Italic allies – fed up with their unequal status – attempted to renounce their allegiance. Rome narrowly won the ensuing Social War (91 – 88 BC) and granted the Italic peoples full Roman citizenship. Sulla left for the east in 86 BC, where he drove back King Mithridates of Pontus, whom had sought to benefit from the Social War by invading Roman territories in Asia and Greece. Sulla marched on Rome itself in 82 BC, executed many of his political enemies in a bloody purge and passed reforms to strengthen the Senate before voluntarily stepping down in 79 BC. Sulla’s retirement and death one year later allowed his general Pompey to begin his own rise to prominence. Following his victory in the Sertorian War in 72 BC, Pompey eradicated piracy in the Mediterranean Sea in 67 BC and led a campaign against Rome’s remaining eastern enemies in 66 BC. Pompey drove Mithridates of Pontus to flight, annexed Pontic lands into the new province of Bithynia et Pontus and created the province of Cilicia in southern Asia Minor. He proceeded to destroy the crumbling Seleucid Empire and turned it into the new province of Syria in 64 BC, causing Armenia to surrender and become a vassal of Rome. Pompey’s legions then advanced south, took Jerusalem and turned the Hasmonean Kingdom in Judea into a Roman vassal as well. Upon his triumphant return to Rome in 61 BC, Pompey made the significant mistake of disbanding his army with the promise of a land distribution, which was refused by the Senate in an attempt to isolate him. Pompey then concluded a political alliance with the rich Marcus Licinius Crassus and a young, ambitious politician: Gaius Julius Caesar. The purpose of this political alliance – known in later times as the First Triumvirate – was to get Caesar elected as consul in 59 BC, so that he could arrange the land distribution for Pompey’s veterans. In return, Pompey would use his influence to make Caesar proconsul and thus give him the chance to levy his own legions and become a man of power in the Roman Republic. Crassus, the richest man in Rome, funded the election campaign and easily got Caesar elected as consul, after which Caesar secured Pompey’s land distribution. Everything went according to plan and Caesar was made proconsul of Gaul for five years, starting in 58 BC. In the following years, Caesar and his legions systematically conquered all of Gaul in a war which has been immortalised in the accounts of Caesar himself (‘Commentarii De Bello Gallico’). Despite fierce resistance and massive revolts led by the Gallic warlord Vercingetorix, the Gallic tribes proved unable to inflict a decisive defeat on the Romans and were all subdued or annihilated by 51 BC, leaving Caesar’s power and prestige at unprecedented heights. With Crassus having fallen at the Battle of Carrhae against the Parthians in 53 BC, Pompey was left to try and mediate between Caesar and the radicalised Roman proletariat on one side and the politically hard-pressed Senate on the other. However, Pompey had once been where Caesar was now – the champion of Rome – and ultimately chose to side with the Senate, realising his own greatness had become overshadowed by Caesar’s staggering military successes and popularity among the masses. When Caesar’s term as proconsul ended, the Senate demanded that he step down, disband his armies and return to Rome as a mere citizen. Though it was tradition for a Roman commander to do so, rendering Caesar theoretically immune from any senatorial prosecution, the existing political situation made such demands hard to meet. Caesar instead offered the Senate to extend his term as proconsul and leave him in command of two legions until he could be legally elected as consul again. When the Senate refused, Caesar responded by crossing the Rubicon – the northern border of Roman Italy which no Roman commander should cross with an army – and marched on Rome itself in 49 BC. Pompey and most of the senators fled to Dyrrhachium in Greece and assembled their forces while Caesar turned around and conducted a lightning campaign in Spain, defeating the legions loyal to Pompey at the Battle of Ilerda. Caesar crossed the Adriatic Sea in 48 BC, narrowly escaping defeat by Pompey at Dyrrhachium and retreating south. Pompey clumsily failed to press his advantage and his forces were in turn decisively defeated by Caesar at the Battle of Pharsalus on 6 June 48 BC. Pompey fled to Egypt in hopes of being granted sanctuary by the young king Ptolemy XIII, who instead had him assassinated in an attempt at pleasing Caesar, who was in pursuit. Ptolemy XIII was driven from power in favour of his older sister Cleopatra VII, with whom Caesar had a brief romance and his only known son, Caesarion. In the spring and summer of 47 BC, another lightning campaign was launched northwards through Syria and Cappadocia into Pontus, securing Caesar’s hold on Rome’s eastern reaches and decisively defeating the forces of Pharnaces II of Pontus, who had attempted to profit from Rome’s internal strife. Caesar invaded Africa in 46 BC and cleared Pompeian forces from the region at the Battles of Ruspina and Thapsus before returning to Spain and defeating the last resistance at the Battle of Munda in 45 BC. Caesar subsequently began transforming the Roman government from a republican one meant for a city-state to an imperial one meant for an empire. Major reforms were required to achieve this, many of which would be opposed by Caesar’s political enemies. This was a problem because several of these people enjoyed significant political influence and popular support (cf. Cicero) and while none of them could really challenge Caesar individually and publicly, collectively and secretly they could be a serious threat. To render his enemies politically impotent, Caesar consolidated his popularity among the Roman masses by passing reforms beneficial to the proletariat and enlarging the Senate to ensure his supporters had the upper hand. He then manipulated the Senate into granting him a number of legislative powers, most prominently the office of dictator for ten years, soon changed to dictator perpetuus. Though widely welcomed by the masses, Caesar’s reforms and legislative powers dismayed his political opponents, whom assembled a conspiracy to murder him and ‘liberate’ Rome. The conspirators, of whom Brutus and Cassius are the most famous, were successful and Caesar was brutally stabbed to death on 15 March 44 BC. Caesar’s death left a power vacuum which plunged the Roman world into yet another civil war. In his testament, Caesar adopted as his sole heir his grandnephew Gaius Octavius, henceforth known as Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus (Octavian, in English). Despite being only eighteen, Octavian quickly secured the support of Caesar’s legions and forced the Senate to grant him several legislative powers, including the consulship. In 43 BC, Octavian established a military dictatorship known as the Second Triumvirate with Caesar’s former generals Mark Antony and Marcus Lepidus. Caesar’s assassins had meanwhile fled to the eastern provinces, where they assembled forces of their own and subsequently moved into Greece. Octavian and Antony in turn invaded Greece in 42 BC and defeated them at the Battles of Philippi. Octavian, Antony and Lepidus then divided the Roman world between them: Octavian would rule the west, Antony the east and Lepidus the south with Italy as a joint-ruled territory. However, Octavian soon proved himself a brilliant politician and strategist by quickly consolidating his hold on both the western provinces and Italy, smashing the Sicilian Revolt of Sextus Pompey (son of) in 36 BC and ousting Lepidus from the Triumvirate that same year. Meanwhile, Antony consolidated his position in the east but made the fatal mistake of becoming the lover of Cleopatra VII. In 32 BC, Octavian manipulated the Senate into a declaration of war upon Cleopatra’s realm, correctly expecting Antony would come to her aid. The two sides battled at Actium on 2 September 31 BC, resulting in a crushing victory for Octavian, despite Antony and Cleopatra escaping back to Egypt. Octavian crossed into Asia the following year and marched through Asia Minor, Syria and Judea into Egypt, subjugating the eastern territories along the way. On 1 August 30 BC, the forces of Octavian entered Alexandria. Both Antony and Cleopatra perished by their own hand, leaving Octavian as the undisputed master of the Roman world. Octavian assumed the title of Augustus in January 27 BC and officially restored the Roman Republic, although in reality he reduced it to little more than a facade for a new imperial regime. Thus began the era of the Principate, named after the constitutional framework which made Augustus and his successors princeps (first citizen), commonly referred to as ‘emperor’, and which would last approximately two centuries. Augustus nevertheless refrained from giving himself absolute power vested in a single title, instead subtly spreading imperial authority throughout the republican constitution while simultaneously relying on pure prestige. Thus he avoided stomping any senatorial toes too hard, remembering what had happened to Julius Caesar. Augustus and his successors drew most of their power from two republican offices. The title of tribunicia potestes ensured the emperor political immunity, veto rights in the Senate and the right to call meetings in both the Senate and the concilium plebis (people’s assembly). This gave the emperor the opportunity to present himself as the guardian of the empire and the Roman people, a significant ideological boost to his prestige. Secondly, the emperor held imperium proconsulare. Imperium implied the emperor’s governorship of the so-called imperial provinces, which were typically border provinces, provinces prone to revolt and/or exceptionally rich provinces. These provinces obviously required a major military presence, thereby securing the emperor’s command of most of the Roman legions. The title was proconsulare because the emperor enjoyed imperium even without being a consul. The emperor furthermore interfered in the affairs of the (non-imperial) senatorial provinces on a regular basis and gave literally every person in the empire the theoretical right to request his personal judgement in court cases. Roman religion was also brought under the emperor’s wings by means of him becoming pontifex maximus (supreme priest), a position of major ideological importance. On top of all this, the Senate frequently granted the emperor additional rights which enhanced his power even more: supervision over coinage, the right to declare war or conclude peace treaties, the right to grant Roman citizenship, control over Roman colonisation across the Mediterranean, etc. The emperor was thus the supreme administrator, commander, priest and judge of the empire – a de facto absolute ruler, but without actually being named as such. It is worth noting that Augustus and most of his immediate successors worked hard to play along in the empire’s republican theatre, which gradually faded as the centuries passed. The most important questions nonetheless remained the same for a long time after Augustus’ death in AD 14. Could the emperor keep himself in the Senate’s good graces by preserving the republican mask? Or did he choose an open conflict with the Senate by ruling all too autocratically? Even a de facto absolute ruler required the support and acceptance of the empire’s elite class, the lack of which could prove to be a serious obstacle to any imperial policies. The relationship between the emperor and the Senate was therefore of significant importance in maintaining the political work of Augustus, particularly under his immediate successors. The first four of these were Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero – the Julio-Claudian dynasty. Tiberius was chosen by Augustus as successor on account of his impressive military service and proved to be a capable (if gloomy) ruler, continuing along the political lines of Augustus and implementing financial policies which left the imperial treasuries in decent shape at his death in AD 37 and Caligula’s accession. Despite having suffered a harsh youth full of intrigues and plotting, Caligula quickly gained the respect of the Senate, the army and the people, making a hopeful entry into the Principate. Yet continuous personal setbacks turned Caligula bitter and autocratic, not to say tyrannical, causing him to hurl his imperial power head-first into the senatorial elite and any dissenting groups (most notably the Jews). After Caligula’s assassination in AD 41, the position of emperor fell to his uncle Claudius who, despite a strained relationship with the Senate, managed to play the republican charade well enough to implement further administrative reforms and successfully invade the British Isles to establish the province of Britannia from AD 43 onward. But the Roman drive for expansion had been somewhat tempered after Augustus’ consolidating conquests in Spain, along the Danube and in the east. The Romans had practically turned the Mediterranean Sea into their own internal sea (Mare Internum or Mare Nostrum) and thus switched to territorial consolidation rather than expansion. However, the former was still often accomplished by the latter as multiple vassal states (Judea, Cappadocia, Mauretania, Thrace etc.) were gradually annexed as new Roman provinces. Actual wars of aggression nevertheless ceased to be a main item on the Roman agenda and indeed, the policies of consolidation and pacification paved the way for a long period of internal peace and stability during the first and second centuries AD – the Pax Romana. This should not be idealised, though. On the local level, violence was often one of the few stable elements in the lives of the common people across the empire. Especially among the lowest ranks of society, crimes such as murder and thievery were the order of the day but were typically either ignored by the Roman authorities or answered with brute force. Moreover, the Romans focused on safeguarding cities and places of major strategic or economic importance and often cared little about maintaining order in the vast countryside. Unpleasant encounters with brigands, deserters or marauders were therefore likely for those who travelled long distances without an armed escort. At the empire’s frontiers, the Roman legions regularly fought skirmishes with their local enemies, most notably the Germanic tribes across the Rhine-Danube frontier and the Parthians across the Euphrates. Despite all this, the big picture of the Roman world in the first and second centuries AD is indeed one of lasting stability which could not be discredited so easily. The real threat to the Pax Romana existed not so much in local violence, shady neighbourhoods or frontier skirmishes but rather in the highest ranks of the imperial court. The lack of both dynastic and elective succession mechanisms had been the Principate’s weakest point from the outset and would be the cause of major internal turmoil on several occasions. Claudius’ successor Nero succeeded in provoking both the Senate and the army to such an extent that several provincial governors rose up in open revolt. The chaos surrounding Nero’s flight from Rome and death by his own hand plunged the empire into its first major succession crisis. If the emperor lost the respect and loyalty of both the Senate and the army, he could not choose a successor, giving senators and soldiers a free hand to appoint the persons they considered suitable to be the new emperor. This being the exact situation upon Nero’s death in AD 68, the result was nothing short of a new civil war. To further add to the catastrophe, the civil war of AD 68/69 (the Year of Four Emperors) allowed for two major uprisings to get out of hand – the Batavian Revolt near the mouths of the Rhine and the First Jewish-Roman War in Judea. Both of these were ultimately crushed with significant difficulties, especially in Judea where Jewish religious-nationalist sentiments capitalised on existing political and economic unrest. Though the Romans achieved victory with the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70 and the expulsion of the Jews from the city, Judea would remain a hotbed for revolts until deep into the second century AD. The fact that major uprisings arose at the first sign of trouble within the empire might cause one to wonder about the true nature of the Pax Romana. Was it truly the strong internal stability it is popularly known to be? Or was it little more than a forced peace, continuously threatened by socio-economic and political discontent among the many different peoples under the Roman yoke? Though a bit of both, the answer definitely leans towards the former hypothesis. While the Pax Romana lasted, unrest within the empire remained limited to a few hotbeds with a history of resisting foreign conquerors. Besides the obvious example of the Jewish people in Judea, whose anti-Roman sentiments largely stemmed from their unique messianic doctrines, large-scale resistance against the Romans was scarce. It is true that the incorporation and Romanisation of unique societies near the empire’s northern frontiers led to severe socio-economic problems and subsequent uprisings, most notably Boudica’s Rebellion in Britain (AD 60 – 61) and the aforementioned Batavian Revolt near the mouths of the Rhine. Nevertheless, it is safe to assume that the Pax Romana was strong enough to outlast a few pockets of rebellion and even a major succession crisis like the one of AD 68/69. The Year of the Four Emperors ultimately brought to power Vespasian, founder of the Flavian dynasty (AD 69 – 96) and architect of an intensified pacification policy throughout the empire. These policies were fruitful and strengthened the constitutional position of the emperor, not in the least owing to the fact that Vespasian’s sons and successors Titus and Domitian were as capable as their father. However, their skills did not prevent Titus and especially Domitian from bickering with the senatorial elite over the increasingly obvious monarchical powers of the emperor. In the case of the all too authoritarian Domitian, the conflict escalated again and despite his competent (if ruthless) statesmanship, Domitian was murdered in AD 96. A new civil war was prevented by diplomatic means: Nerva emerged as an acceptable emperor to both the Senate and the army, especially when he adopted the popular Trajan as his son and heir. Thus began the reign of the Nerva-Antonine dynasty (AD 96 – 192). Having succeeded Nerva in AD 98, Trajan once more steered the empire onto the path of aggressive expansion, leading the Roman legions across the Danube to crush the Dacians and establish the rich province of Dacia in AD 106. Subsequently, the Romans seized the initiative in the east, drove back the Parthians and advanced all the way to the Persian Gulf (Sinus Persicus). Trajan annexed Armenia in AD 114 and turned the conquered Parthian lands into the new provinces of Mesopotamia and Assyria in AD 116. Trajan died less than a year later on 9 August AD 117, his staggering military successes having brought the Roman Empire to its greatest extent ever…

#maps #Undevicesimus #roman empire #117

93 notes · View notes